alifornia 
atonal 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


MY  LOVES   AND  MY  LOVERS 


Five  Hundred  copies  printed. 
Wo.   /  /  ^ 


Lobes  and  f&y  Loterg 


BY 


SAMUEL  PEARCE  MERRILL 


THE  MARION  PRESS 

JAMAICA    QUEENSBOROUGH    NEW  YORK 
1909 


Copyright,  1909,  by  SAMUEL  PEARCE  MERRILL. 


-238"} 


PREFATORY. 

CT^his  book  of  verse  goes  oat  in  response  to  the  often 
exprest   wishes  of  " o' ' er -partial  friends."      But 

for  them  it  never  would  have  seen  the  face  of  type. 
Among  these  friends  I  may  be  permitted  to  mention 
Professor  Edward  M.  Bowman,  President  Charles  F. 
Meserve,  LL.D.,  Mark  D.  Stiles,  Esq.,  and  Attorney 
Ode II  D.  Tompkins.  The  little  volume  asks  to  go  to 

friendly  eyes  and  sympathetic  hearts.  Its  chief  value 
lies  in  the  responses  it  makes  to  other  lives  that  have 
been  touched  in  the  passing  of  the  years.  Many  of 
those  who  are  named,  or  not  named,  are  gone,  and  live 
but  in  fading  memory,  except  for  these  pages.  Many 
who  share  the  spirit  of  the  song,  will  live  on  long  after 
the  singer's  voice  is  hushed  to  silence.  Like  the  mur 
mur  of  the  chords  which  ever  answer  to  the  passing 
breeze,  these  verses  are  vibrant  with  friendship  and 
love,  and  shall  be  until  the  lines  fade  from  off  the 

printed  page. 

Friends  that  are  gone,  friends  that  abide,  to  you  the 
author   dedicates   these  pages  forever  and  aye!     His 

faults  your  mantle,    Charity,  will  cover. 


SD3030 


CONTENTS. 

Page 

Woman      .......  9 

Cupid    .          .          .          .          .          .          .  10 

Our  Willie II 

The  Winter's  Grave          .          .          .          .  1 1 

The  Little  Wife 13 

Our  Life         .          .          .          .          .          .  14. 

Florida's  Hills '    .  16 

The  Friends    .           .           .          .           .           .  17 

The  Bouquet        .          .  .  .  .  .18 

Ode  to  the  Genesee  River           .          .          .  19 

Kiss  Me  If  You  Can 20 

The  First  Snowstorm         .          .          .          .  22 

Sowing  Precious  Seed              .          .           .  23 

Music  in  the  Breeze           .          .          .          .  24 

Peace,  Be  Still 25 

An  Album  Dedication        .          .          .          .  27 

Memories  .  .  .  .  .  -27 

Love's  First  Kiss      .          .          .          .          .  29 

Life            .......  30 

The  Glass  Steam  Engine              .           .           .  31 

Invocation             .                     .           .           .  32 

To  Annie,  the  Little  Beauty        .          .          .  34 


viii  Contents 

Reflection -35 

The  Class  Song,  1858       .          .          .  36 

Phonography        .           .           .           .          .  -37 

Baffled  Hopes 39 

Witches  In  Your  Eye    .           .           .           .  .40 

On  a  Picture             .....  42 

A  Valentine         ......     43 

Music    ......  44 

The  Bible 45 

To  Mollie 46 

Engaged     .  .      47 

Battle  of  Fredericksburg     ....  49 

Lines          .          .          .          .          .          .  5 1 

The  Unknown  Dead          .           .           .           .  52 

Love  and  Duty    .          .          .          .          .  -54 

Beauty  Brown  Eyes            .           .           .           .  55 

Courage      .......      56 

Myrtie            .          .          .          .          .          .  57 

Twenty-fifth  Anniversary,  Class  of  1858  .      59 

Sniggles,  the  Squirrel  Island  Cat            .           .  61 

In  Memoriam  —  My  Parents            .           .  -63 

The  Vigil  for  Our  Dead    .          .          .          .  65 

Love's  Dream     ......      66 

My  Wedding  Violets          ....  67 

"She  hath  done  what  she  could"              .  .68 

Mine  Run,   1863      .....  69 


Contents  ix 

My  Lifetime  Friend      .          .          .  .                70 

Our  Squirrel  Island  Song              .          .  .           71 

One  of  the  Few             .          .          .  .          -72 

Mabel  Adams'  Call            .           .          .  .           73 

A  Dedication  Hymn     .          .          .  .          -74 

The  Star  of  Bethlehem      .          .          .  .           75 

The  Cecilian  Choir,  of  Newark,  N.  J.  .      77 

To  My  Daughter  Mary     .          .          .  .           78 

In  Memoriam      .          .          .          .  .          -79 

A  Morning  Hymn   .....  80 

Shaw  is  Marching  On             .          .  .           .81 

The  Bowman  Drama         .           .           .  .           82 

God's  Mystery    ......      84 

In  Memoriam  —  George  Such     ...  86 

From  Sahel  to  the  Sea             .           .  .           -87 

Notre  Dame  d'Afrique,  Algiers  .          .  .           88 

Athens  and  the  American  School     .  .           .89 

The  Wedding- Cake            .           .           .  .           92 

The  Carlton  House,  Sedgwick,  Maine  .          .      93 

My  Lady's  Birthday           .           .          .  .           95 

Christ  our  Chief  Cornerstone           ..  .          -95 

The  Pierian  Spring             .          .           .  .           97 

Better  than  Gold           .          .          .  .          -99 

The  Big  Trees          .          .          .          .  .100 

Hawaii,  the  Beulah  Land       .          .  .          .    101 

In  Memoriam  102 


x  Contents 

"The  Beautiful,  the  True,  and  the  Good  "       .104 

The  Thornbush  and  the  Rose     .          .  .         105 

To  the  Friends    .          .          .          .  .          .106 

To  Georgiana           .           .           .           .  .107 

A  Birthday  Soliloquy     .           .           .  .           .108 

Usual  Tommy  and  Curious  Kate           .  .          109 

To  Celebrate  the  Wedding     .          .  .          .    1 1 1 

To  My  Classmates  All       .           .           .  .          112 

Our  Lady  of  the  Stars  .           .           .  .           .    1 1  3 

The  Rev.  Daniel  Merrill,  A.M.           .  .         114 

The  Little  Torch 1 1 6 

In  Memoriam           .          .          .          .  .         1 1 8 

Calvary  Choir      .           .           .           .  .           .119 

For  the  Wedding      .           .           .           .  .         120 

An  Appreciation             .           .           .  .          .121 

Their  Three  Seasons          .           .           .  .          123 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Albert  S.  Burlingham  .           .    I  24 

To  My  Daughter,  Mary  Merrill           .  .         125 
Song  of  Solomon,  v.  1 6  :   "This  is  my  friend  "      127 

The  Land  of  Burns            .          .          .  .         128 

Impromptu           .           .           .           •  .           -130 

John  White  Philbrick,  Deceased            .  .         132 

A  Lassie's  Scrap-Book  .          .          .  .          .    133 

For  the  Wedding      .           .           .           .  .         134 

The  Reverend  Professor  Lawrence  Phelps,  D.D.     135 

My  Dearie      .           .           .           .           .  .136 


I 

Contents  xi 

Hymn        .           .           .           .  .           .           .    137 

Our  Friends    .           .          .  .           .           .         138 

An -Algiers  Swain          /         .  .          .          -139 
On  Meditating  a  Visit  to  Palestine        .           .         140 

The  Fukuin  Maru      .•  .           .  .           .           .141 

Praise  to  Our  God              .  .           .           .142 

Good-Bye          '\          .          ./  .           .           .    144 


anfc 


O  woman  !   thou  wert  born  so  fair 
To  strew  life's  stormy-fretted  road 

With  flowers  bright,  and  shed  an  air 
Of  purest  innocence  abroad. 

Thou  dost  man's  dearest  thoughts  beguile  ; 

They  own  thy  wondrous  power  to  guide ; 
And  dearer  is  thy  loving  smile 

Than  all  the  wealth  of  earth  beside. 

Would 'st  yield  thy  treasured  beauty  rare  — 
Or  barter  it  for  prize  of  dust  ? 

Earth's  greatest  worth  were  buried  there 
And  thou  wert  traitor  to  thy  trust. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  July,  1854. 


io  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Cttpili. 

Cupid  !   Cupid  !  what  an  urchin  ! 

Always  gliding  around  the  earth, 
Always  weaving  others  trouble, 

And  always  laughing,  full  of  mirth. 
Tell  me  where  thy  court  is  found  ? 
Who  shall  next  by  thee  be  bound  ? 

Tell  me  where  was  forged  that  arrow - 
Piercing  thru  the  heart  and  marrow  ? 
Tell  me  where  I  '11  catch  thee  sleeping, 
Fays  around  thee  vigils  keeping  ? 

Tell  me  why  thy  power  's  so  charming, 
Linking  hearts,  all  fear  disarming, 
Nor  caring  whether  high  or  low 
Shall  feel  the  power  of  thy  bow  ? 

Ah,  me  !   Thy  archery,  how  mean  ! 
Our  hearts  are  pawns  with  thee,  I  ween. 
Whom  you  pass,  we  write  them  stupid  - 
Rougish,  laughing,  dimpled  Cupid. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  November,  1854. 


1 1 


©ttt  Willie. 

Sleep,  little  babe,  sleep  on  so  sweet, 

Pillowed  beneath  the  sod  ; 
Our  earthly  storms  pass  o'er  thee  fleet, 

For  thou  art  with  thy  God. 

Like  some  bright  star  seen  in  the  skies  — 
That  sheds  one  beam  of  light, 

Then  twinkles  faintly  out  and  dies  — 
So  sank  ye  from  our  sight. 

Buds  in  Springtime  ope  their  flow'rs, 
Tho  Winter  long  hath  chilled  ; 

So  graves  shall  people  heav'nly  bowers, 
Tho  but  with  dust  they  're  filled. 

Mt.  Hope,  Rochester,  N.Y.,  1855. 


<25raUe. 

Old  Winter  had  reigned  with  his  icy  wand, 
Had  crystaled  the  sea  and  frosted  the  land ; 
His  limbs  were  chilled  and  his  heart  had  grown 

cold, 
And  his  blood  ran  slow  in  his  veins  so  old. 


I  2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

By  his  side  walked  forth  in  his  joyous  might 
A  youth  whose  powers  had  never  known  blight  ; 
And  a  happy  sight  was  this  trusting  pair  — 
The  Old  one  was  leaning  upon  the  Fair. 

Old  Winter,  worn  with  his  toilsome  reign, 
Grown  old  in  care  and  racked  with  pain, 
Upon  the  beauteous  head  of  the  Spring 
Bequeathed  him  his  crown  and  folded  his  wing. 

Thus  came  the  sunshine  and  mantled  the  rain, 
The  emblems  of  joy  and  of  fevered  pain  ; 
And  Spring,  as  he  mourns  for  the  Old  Man's 

death, 
Now  raises  aloud  and  now  calms  his  breath. 

And  Nature  so  fondly  the  dewdrops  gave 
To  spangle  them  over  the  Old  Man's  grave  ; 
The  rainbow's  light  in  the  heavens  she  bent 
As  the  Old  Man's  glorious  monument. 

Thus,  when  you  welcome  the  buds  and  flowers  — 
The  beauteous  sights  of  Springtime  bowers  — 
Know  you  full  well  how  that  each  one  again 
Tells  also  the  joy  of  the  Young  King's  reign. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  May  27,  1855. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  1 3 


little  Witt. 


O,  if  you  had  a  little  wife, 
Winsome,  good,  and  full  of  life, 

And  she  were  only  all  your  own, 
Would  you  frown  when-  she  would  smile  ? 
Would  you  wish  her  ought  of  guile  ? 

Could  you  let  her  be  alone  ? 
Would  you  ?      Could  you  ? 
If  you  had  the  dear  wife,  would  you  ? 

When  she  'd  come  to  cure  your  sadness 
With  her  face  all  lit  with  gladness 

And  perchance  a  kiss, 
Would  you  anything  refuse  her  ? 
Would  you  ever  want  to  lose  her  ? 

Would  you  take  it  aught  amiss? 
Would  you  ?      Could  you  ? 
If  you  had  the  dear  wife,  would  you  ? 

If  she  had  increased  your  pleasure 
By  adding  now  and  then  a  treasure, 
Do  you  think  you  would  complain  ? 


1 4  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

When  with  joy  you  'd  go  to  greet  her, 
And  she'd  blush  when  you  would  meet  her, 

Could  you  from  a  kiss  refrain  ? 
Would  you  ?      Could  you  ? 
If  you  had  the  dear  wife,  would  you  ? 

And  would  you  wipe  away  her  tears  ? 
And  would  you  drive  away  her  fears  ? 

Would  you  love  her  always  more  ? 
Would  you  sit  and  read  her  features 
In  the  charming  little  creatures 

Playing  just  within  the  door? 
Would  you  ?      Could  you  ? 
If  you  had  the  treasures,  would  your 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  May,  1855. 


©ttr  life. 

I  saw  a  lake,  no  ripple  to  break 

Its  mirror-surface  o'er ; 
Reflected,  a  star,  bright  gem  from  afar, 

This  magic  lakelet  bore. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  \  5 

Here  frailest  boats  the  light  zephyr  floats 

To  music  of  the  waves  ; 
From  ocean  cells  come  bright  sentinels 

Where  each  light  skifflet  laves. 

Gliding  along  to  murmuring  song, 

These  barks  were  on  the  wing  ; 
With  a  starry  sky  and  with  white  sails  high, 

No  anchor  th*  floaters  fling. 

The  storm-king  loud,  in  his  chariot  cloud, 

Came  whirling  on  the  blast ;    . 
And  many  a  boat  nevermore  could  float 

When  the  wing  of  his  ire  was  past. 

And  as  I  gaze  thru  the  cloudy  haze, 

The  sunbeams  on  the  lake 
Seem  scattered  and  few  as  spangles  of  dew, 

And  soon  away  betake. 

And  such  is  life  !   'T  is  ever  a  strife 

Between  sunshine  and  rain, 
And  each  frail  bark  neath  the  wavelets  dark 

Must  soon  or  late  remain. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  July  10,  1855. 


1  6  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


jFIortUa'fi 

(Montgomery  County,  N.Y.) 

Old  Florida's  hills,  where  the  winter  wind  chills 

And  dances  in  power  and  glee, 
Where  the  snowflakes  lie,  like  its  own  hills,  high, 

With  memory's  glance  I  see. 

And  the  Mohawk's  flow,  with  its  ice-burden  slow 

Which  it  bears  to  the  Hudson  away, 
And  the  village  just  seen  thru  the  mists  between, 

They  glisten  before  me  today. 

From  the  tall  hillside,  the  prospect  so  wide 

Stretches  fair  away  to  the  view, 
Where  homes  below,  with  smoke  curling  slow, 

Shelter  hearts  that  beat  warm  for  you. 

And  the  forests  look  gray  with  their  burdens  of  spray, 

As  they  bear  their  unwonted  fruit, 
When  the  waving  green  fields  to  the  icy  garb  yields 

And  the  thousand-tongued  summer  is  mute. 

And  pure  is  the  light  from  the  snowy  fields  white, 
And  free  sweep  the  winds  o'er  the  plain  ; 

But  hear  me  today,  for  my  boding  fears  say 
I  never  may  see  them  again. 

A  letter  to  Jennie  A.  Stanton,  February  5,  1856. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  17 


STIje  J rmxtis. 

I  saw  two  clouds  that,  riding  high, 
Were  gliding  thru  the  summer  sky  ; 
They  came  and  went  as  birds  that  play, 
Now  hovering  here,  now  far  away, 
Till,  sporting  thus,  they  sailed  so  near 
That  both  in  one  more  bright  appear. 

I  saw  two  drops  leave  their  high  home 

And  come  to'rd  earth's  domain  to  roam: 

Like  leaves  they  fell,  nor  caring  where, 

So  they  but  left  the  chilly  air, 

And  on  a  rose  they  fell  and  met. 

Go  seek  them  there.    You  '11  find  them  yet. 

I  saw  two  strangers  drawing  near, 
In  converse  close  they  soon  appear : 
Say  they  the  clouds  unite  together, 
And  drops,  too,  meet  in  stormy  weather  ; 
Then  why  should  we  so  lonely  stray  ? 
Thus  meeting,  they  are  friends  today. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  February,  1856. 


1 8  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


•Bouquet. 

I  've  a  pretty  bouquet 

On  my  table  today  ; 
I  've  had  it  these  two  days  or  so  ; 

And  the  leaves  as  they  fade 

Whisper,    "All  was  but  made 
To  bloom,  and  when  brightest  to  go." 

And  the  quick-flashing  eye 

All  sightless  must  lie  : 
The  high-beating  heart  must  grow  still  ; 

As  the  flowers  decay, 

So  one  passeth  away. 
The  fairest  is  blighted  with  ill. 

E'en  the  sunshine  must  fade, 
And  dark  shadows  be  laid 

On  the  earth,  and  so  on  the  heart ; 
And  the  quick  falling  rain 
And  the  teardrop  of  pain    • 

Do  their  work,  and  then  they  depart. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,June,  1856. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  19 


©He  to  t(je  <25enesfee  Kitoer. 

In  beauty  and  grandure  thou  glidest  along 
Thru  the  pleasant  green  vallies  and  city 's  dense  throng  — 
Where  the  bright  emerald  banks  the  clear  water  laves, 
And  thy  music  is  sweet,  for  'tis  made  by  the  waves. 

Long  ages  thy  waters  had  busily  ran 
Ere  thy  beauty  was  scanned  by  the  proud  eye  of  man ; 
As  thy  torrents  have  rolled  o'er  their  rough,  rocky  bed, 
Nought  reflected  the  waves  but  the  gems  overhead. 

The  heart  of  the  red  man  has  throbbed  with  true  joy, 
As  he  taught  thy  sweet  name  to  his  innocent  boy ; 
And  the  fair  Indian  maid  has  heaved  many  a  sigh 
When  her  hopes  passed  away,  as  thy  waters  flow  by. 

I  've  traced  my  river  !   my  sweet  Genesee  ! 

Far  back  where  the  wild  bird  singeth  out  in  his  glee ; 

Where  the  flowers  unplucked  gem  the  mossy,  green 

banks, 
And  their  fragrance,  upwafted,  to  heaven  gives  thanks. 

I'  ve  seen  the  pure  spring  whence  thy  first  courses  start, 
Where  the  high  rising  hills  for  thy  clear  waters  part  ; 


2O  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

And  with  pleasure  the  purest  I  look  upon  thee 
E'en  wherever  thou  windest,  O  my  sweet  Genesee  ! 

I  've  gazed  from  thy  banks  where  the  water  falls  deep, 
As  if,  worn  with  its  journey,  it  seeketh  for  sleep ; 
And  in  fond  meditation  while  straying  by  thee 
Have  I  seen  fairest  visions,  my  sweet  Genesee  ! 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  August,  1856. 


3ff  goti  Can, 

I  met  her  in  the  evening 

When  the  stars  were  shining  bright, 
And  her  eyes  were  soft  and  lovely 

As  if  dancing  with  delight  ; 
And  I  sat  me  close  beside  her, 

And  I  took  her  hand  in  mine, 
And  she  said,  "You  mustn't,  Willie." 

I  held  it  in  a  closer  twine. 

I  put  my  arm  about  her, 

'Twas  just  to  hold  her  still ; 

And  she  begged  that  I  would  leave  her, 
Shyly,  as  you  maidens  will. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  zi 

And  she  frowned  a  pretty  frown, 
And  she  said  she  knew  she  'd  cry  ; 

But  I  thought  she  didn't  mean  it, 
I  didn't  really  b'lieve  she  'd  try. 

But  soon  I  drew  still  nearer — 

And  my  lips  were  closely  prest 
To  the  place  where  Cupid  bids  them 

Find  their  sweetest  place  of  rest. 
O,  how  she  blushed  and  started  ! 

And  she  tried  to  get  away  ; 
But  the  struggle  wasn't  fearful  — 

'T  is  thus  the  lasses  do,  they  say. 

Anon  I  rose  to  leave  her  ; 

Said  she,  "Willie,  don't  you  go." 
Whispered  I,  "You  bade  me  do  it." 

"Well,"  said  she,  "Willie,  you  know 
I  didn't  really  mean  it, 

And  you  yet  may  hold  my  hand, 
And  may  put  your  arm  about  me, 

And  may  kiss  me,  Willie,  if  you  can. ' ' 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  October,  1856. 


22  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Or  first 

The  wintry  wind  blows  chill  and  drear, 
The  Autumn  leaves  are  falling  near, 
And  all  is  fading,  fading  here. 
It  is  the  first  snowstorm  ! 

The  birds  afraid  are  flying  far, 
And  hushed  their  songs  of  gladness  are, 
And  summer  sets  her  waning  star. 
It  is  the  first  snowstorm  ! 

The  winter  comes  with  storms  and  snows, 
And  colder  still  the  bleak  wind  blows  ; 
But  pleasure  comes,  tho  beauty  goes, 
With  this  the  first  snowstorm. 

It  tells  the  year  is  growing  old  ; 
His  heart  is  chilled  with  coming  cold, 
And  silv'ry  grow  his  locks  of  gold. 
It  is  the  first  snowstorm. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  November,  1856. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  23 


lofting  precious 

Go,  sow  my  seed  !   the  Lord  hath  said. 
Upon  the  waters  cast  thy  bread  ; 
It  shall  return  thee  double  store, 
And  heap  thy  head  with  blessings  o'er. 

Tho  sown  in  tears,  thou  'It  reap  in  joy  ; 
The  angels  envy  such  employ. 
Then  forth  to  work  !      Gird  on  thy  sword, 
Thy  shield,  thy  buckler,  God's  own  word  ! 

Sow  thou  in  hope,  nor  do  thou  faint, 
God's  arm  shall  guard  the  weakest  saint ; 
Thy  tears  are  bottled,  and  thy  sighs 
Before  His  sight  as  incense  rise. 

The  battle  is  not  to  the  strong. 
Have  patience  !  though  delay  be  long. 
God's  own  good  time  shall  bring  the  right  — 
We  walk  by  faith  and  not  by  sight. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  December  18,  1856. 


24  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


ffiusit  in  the 

Sweet,  when  summer  winds  are  sighing 
O'er  the  fields  and  thru  the  trees, 

To  list  the  thousand  voices  hieing 
Of  Music  whispered  by  the  breeze. 

Sweet  to  watch  the  evening  gather 

When  every  scene  seems  born  to  please, 

When  fragrance  floats  from  every  heather  — 
O,  then  there's  music  in  the  breeze. 

Pleasant,  by  old  ocean  waiting, 

To  watch  the  white  foam  of  the  seas : 

To  see  the  winds  the  waves  awaking, 
And  list  the  music  of  the  breeze. 

Alike  when  morn  or  evening  reign 

Upon  the  waters  and  the  leas, 
Are  voices  whispering  sweet  again  — 

There  's  music  floats  in  every  breeze. 

Upon  the  craggy  mountain's  peak 

Whose  snow-capped  height  the  trav'ller  sees, 
As  in  the  vale  or  desert  bleak, 

There  's  always  music  in  the  breeze. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  December,  1856. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  25 


peace,  ® 

A  silv'ry  lake  was  rippling  music's  trill 

As  rode  a  light  boat  o'er  its  blue  tide  dark. 

Ought  petty  fears  man's  quiet  breast  to  fill 
With  such  a  pilot  and  so  good  a  bark  ? 

But  soon  the  tempest  madly  shows  his  rage  ; 

The  wild  waves  toss  them  rudely  by  ; 
No  presence  now  their  gloomy  fears  assuage 

As  gleam  the  lightnings  from  the  stormy  sky. 

Awhile  they  shrink  in  pallid  fear  away, 

(Despair  hath  seized  them  as  its  choicest  spoil,) 

Forgetful  that  their  Master,  sleeping,  lay, 

Faint  with  his  watching  and  grown  weak  by  toil. 

Now  Peter,  bolder  than  the  others  came 

To  pray  his  Master  that  He  yet  would  save ; 

New  faith  was  added  to  the  feeble  flame, 

He  took  the  strength  the  willing  Saviour  gave. 

Christ  rose  serenely  from  that  tossing  bed 

And  gazed  complacent  on  the  troubled  crew  ; 

No  bitter  admonitions  then  were  said, 

His  loving  heart  their  sore  temptation  knew. 


26  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

The  light' ning,  issuing  forth  its  sheets  of  flame, 
And  winds  obeyed  the  Saviour's  mighty  will ; 

The  waves  like  silv'ry  brooklets  then  became, 
For  lo  !   He  bade  the  storm  a  "  Peace,  be  still." 


So  shall  He  ever,  when  the  storms  of  life 
Beset  thy  pathway,  leaving  darkness  there, 

Calm  all  the  fevered  soul's  impassioned  strife. 
The  holy  secret  is,  be  oft  in  prayer. 

He  's  ever  near  thee.     O  forget  him  not, 

When  fortune  smiles  and  woos  thee  by  its  charm. 

For,  when  temptation  comes,  thou  'rt  not  forgot : 
'Tis  Jesus  keeps  thee  by  His  pow'rful  arm. 

He  '11  guide  thy  bark  thru  every  changing  wave, 
Alike  when  sunshine  comes  and  bleak  winds  chill. 

Fear  not !   the  fiercest  storms  thy  life  can  brave, 
At  last  He  '11  bid  them  all  a  "  Peace,  be  still." 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  January,  1857. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  27 

&n  SUbttm  SDeUuation. 

Reader,  here  behold  a  "vase," 

Waiting  for  thy  kindly  gift. 
Sweetest  flowers  cull  and  place, 
Buds  of  beauty  and  of  grace, 
And  no  blight  shall  e'er  efface 
Their  sweetness. 

Cherished  ever  shall  they  be, 

Their  freshness  never  vanish, 
Ever  dearer  unto  me 
As  with  swiftness  time  shall  flee ; 
And  I  will  remember  thee 
Forever. 

Flow'rs  are  pleasant  in  the  Spring, 

And  fragrant  in  the  Summer ; 
Flow'rs  in  Fall  and  Winter  bring 
Most  pleasure.     Pleasant  offering  ! 
Dearer  these  as  time  shall  fling 
Age's  snows. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  January  17,  1857. 


I  would  not,  O  no,  I  cannot  forget ! 

Fond  memory's  sunny  and  holier  days, 
Tho  the  sun  that  has  lit  them  forever  be  set, 


28  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Yet  their  twilight,  still  ling'ring  with  mellowing  rays, 
Sweet  reflection  with  happiest  vision  displays. 

1  would  not,  O  no,  I  cannot  forget  ! 

When  affliction  with  direful  wing  draweth  nigh, 

O'er  the  scenes  of  the  past  we  shall  stay  with  regret; 
Tho  foreseeing  the  storm  in  the  threatening  sky, 
We  may  tearful  look  back  to  the  bow  that 's  passed  by. 

Ye  memories  !   sure,   I  would  not  forget ! 
As  the  trav'ller  haileth  the  cool  shady  bower 

Where  the  rippling  fountains  with  emerald  are  set, 
So  away  from  the  noon-heat  of  life's  busy  hour 
There  's  a  welcome  retreat  in  thy  gentler  power. 

I  would  not,  O  no,  I  cannot  forget  ! 

Tho  joy  like  a  river  my  heart  should  o'erflow, 

These  fond  scenes  of  the  past  will  be  lingering  yet ; 
And  their  pleasures  increase  as  they  come  and  they  go, 
Still  outshining  the  present  with  sunnier  glow. 

O  memories  sweet  !   the  kindness  they  show 

From  hearts  that  are  living  and  loving,  in  dream, 

While  those  accents  I  hear  and  those  footsteps  I  know, 
Tho  each  feature  the  fainter  and  dimmer  may  seem, 
They  will  bless  me  and  cheer  me  forever,  I  deem. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  March  16,  1857. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  29 


first 

The  joy,  the  joy,  of  love's  first  kiss, 
When  heart  meets  heart  in  raptured  bliss  ! 
How  thrills  the  life-blood  in  the  breast 
When  lip  meets  lip  together  prest. 

Could  man  with  his  poor  puny  hand 
Reach  forth  and  grasp  time's  fleeting  sand, 
Almost  he  would  that  hour  might  be 
His  life  thru  all  eternity. 

What  joy,  what  concentrated  bliss, 
Is  held  within  that  love's  first  kiss  ! 
Methinks  the  gods  might  envy  well 
TV  ambrosial  breath  of  such  a  spell. 

Then  pleasure's  cup  with  joy  o'erfills 
When  love's  first  kiss  the  warm  heart  thrills. 
Ah,  pleasant  languor  !   passion  sweet  ! 
How  quick'nest  thou  the  pulse's  beat  ! 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  1857. 


30  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


life. 

'T  is  evening,  and  sweet  peace  doth  reign 
O'er  quiet  Nature's  broad  domain. 
Music  charms  the  dark'ning  hour 
In  accents  winged  with  gentle  power  ; 
And  thus  in  pleasure's  thrall  I  live, 
Since  naught  but  pleasure  these  can  give. 

Lo  !   I  dream  beside  a  river, 
Where  the  wavelets  leap  and  quiver, 
And  bubbles,  rising  in  their  spray, 
They  bursting,  fade  and  die  away  ; 
In  ceaseless  motion  are  they  tossed  — 
Each  rises,  sparkles,  and  is  lost. 

Man  's  the  bubble  floating  past, 
Gilded  bright,  but  fades  at  last  ; 
Short  the  passage,  frail  the  sheen, 
TV  engulphing  waves  he  sinks  between. 
O  life  !  thou  art  a  smile,  a  tear. 
Now  art  thou,  and  thou  are  not  here. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  October  25,  1857. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  3  i 


<<.  I)f  (Slags  Strain  Engine. 

Not  greatest,  the  latest 

This  subject  we  class. 
No  dream  is  the  theme 

Of  our  measure  today. 
We  would  sing  you  a  song 

Of  an  engine  of  glass  : 
But  far  better  than  we 

Shall  it  sing  its  own  lay. 

Not  duty,  but  beauty 

Hath  captured  at  length, 
Nor  brass,  but  in  glass 

Do  I  labor  unseen  ; 
The  might  of  the  whirlwind 

Do  I  boast  as  my  strength, 
While  slav'ry  and  freedom 

I  struggle  between. 

They  wind  me  and  bind  me 

In  fetters  of  brass, 
Unheeding,  pleading 

Thus  to  view  the  gay  world  ; 


32  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

But  e'en  here  may  I  smile 
From  my  palace  of  glass, 

With  haughty  defiance 

My  proud  lips  are  curled. 

I  'm  ready,  and  steady 

I  tread  my  smooth  way, 
Jarring  nor  marring 

The  keenest  eye  sees  ; 
And  the  colors  I  wear 

As  the  rainbows  are  gay  ; 
The  star  spangled  banner 

I  fling  on  the  breeze. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  December  19,  1857. 


3Tntiocation. 

As  Editor  of  the  "Caduceus,"  of  The  Pithonian  Literary  Society. 

How  shall  I  touch  so  sweet  a  harp 

As  poesy  has  e'er  possest  ? 
How  shall  I  kindle  with  my  song 

Whom  Pitho's  witching  voice  hath  blest 
And  Delphi's  oracle  imprest? 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  33 

Be  you  invoked,  ye  tuneful  Nine  ! 

And  grant  unto  my  measure 
The  words  that  melt,  in  verse  divine, 

And  wrap  our  souls  in  pleasure. 
Be  mine  to  touch  the  ech'ing  strings, 

With  faltering  hand,  I  ween  : 
For  beautiful  thoughts  and  beaut' ful  things 

In  vision  bright  are  seen 
With  solemn  ones  and  sad  between. 

Quaint  visions,  too,  athwart  me  pass 
In  astral-like  procession  ; 

And  how  to  tune  my  song  for  each  — 
Muses,  hear  my  confession  ! 

Grant  me  your  intercession. 


There  are  joys  more  dear  to  the  soul 

Than  lie  in  the  guinea  gold  ! 
There  are  notes  of  sweeter  control 

Than  ring  of  the  metal  cold  ! 
The  treasures  are  mem'ry's  trust, 

And  the  tones  are  friendship's  own ; 
For  mem'ry  hath  its  diamond  dust 

And  harp  of  the  silver  tone. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  1857. 


34  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Co  atnnte,  t&e  little 

My  fancy  brings  many  a  vision 
Of  loveliness,  beauty,  and  grace ; 

But  never  have  charms  so  elysian 

Been  dreamed  of  as  dwell  in  thy  face. 

I  've  pictured  the  spirits  of  eld, 

The  fays  in  their  sweet  coral  caves  ; 

Naught  so  fair  as  thy  form  I  've  beheld, 
Nor  thy  grace,  like  the  flow  of  the  waves. 

Thy  brow  than  the  lily  more  fair, 

And  thy  cheeks  than  the  rose-tinted  shell, 

While  thy  voice  an  Aeolian  air 

Seemed  to  breathe,  as  its  silv'ry  notes  fell. 

How  sparkles  thy  soul-thrilling  eye 

In  beautiful  setting  reposed, 
And  thy  pearly  teeth  half  hidden  lie 

'Neath  rosy  lips  fondly  enclosed. 

Dame  Nature  her  bounties  hath  strewn 
Broadcast  o'er  the  land  and  the  sea  ; 

But  she  's  culled  the  best  for  thine  own, 
She  's  lavished  the  rarest  on  thee. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  August,  1858. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  35 


Eeflectton. 

Ah,  once  again  reflection  brings 

The  feelings  of  the  past ; 
And  the  softest  roseate  hues  she  flings, 
And  beauty  flashes  from  her  wings  — 

Why  do  ye  fade  so  fast  ? 

Stay,  stay,  bright  visions  !  Never  more 

Shall  lures  so  sweet  be  given  ! 
No  sigh,  nor  tear,  life  darkened  o'er, 
And  Hope  her  sunbright  pennant  bore, 
Beautiful  and  unriven. 

The  world  seemed  truer,  then,  than  now 

We  knew  it  not  so  well. 
The  potent  years  have  taught  us  how 
Th'  unflinching  heart  and  manly  brow 

Must  meet  deception's  spell. 

And  memory's  measures,  lo  !   the  ease 

With  which  to-night  they  flow. 
What  sweet-voiced  harmonies  are  these, 
Like  spirit  notes  from  spirit  keys, 
Soul  music,  soft  and  low  ? 


36  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

The  joys  we  have  together  shared, 

TV  exchange  of  friendly  feeling  : 
O  thanks  that  Time  at  least  hath  spared 
These  fruits  of  friendship  unimpaired, 
Nought  of  the  good  concealing  ! 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  1858. 


Class  §>onff,  1858. 

Here  let  us  pledge  with  beaming  eyes 
The  mutual  bonds  we  bear  ; 

As  brothers  by  no  common  ties, 
No  common  love  we  share. 

CHORUS : 

For  College  days  gone  by  in  joy, 

For  College  days  gone  by, 
Shall  ever  live  in  mem'ry  true, 
The  College  days  gone  by. 

The  joys  and  fears,  the  smiles  and  tears, 
The  hopes  that  lamp  our  way, 

Again  we  vow  to  share,  "my  dears," 
And  ne'er  the  trust  betray. 

We  '11  take  a  cup  o'  kindness,  then, 
For  those  we  know  are  true, 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  37 

Who  side  by  side,  undaunted  men, 
The  good  and  true  pursue. 

When  far  apart,  this  golden  tie 

With  lustre  bright  shall  shine, 
Recalling  oft  the  days  gone  by, 

The  days  of  "  auld  lang  syne." 

University  of  Rochester,  Class  of  1858. 


Far  back  in  time  let  the  spirit  sweep 

To  the  days  of  ancient  art, 
When  Painter's  hand  and  Sculptor's  keep 

The  music  of  the  heart. 

When  the  Poets  tuned  their  lyres  so  sweet, 

And  the  eloquence  as  well 
Quickened  the  tireless  pulse's  beat 

With  the  Orator's  spell. 

And  men  thus  sighed  for  the  pen  of  fire 
To  capture  the  gems  of  thought  — 

The  heavenly  sprite  that  prompted  desire 
Gave  not  the  art  they  sought. 


38  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

For  the  coming  days  and  coming  years 

I  reserve  the  pen  of  light  ; 
Toil  on  thru  effort  and  thru  tears, 

The  boon  shall  greet  thy  sight. 

And  so  she  fled,  but  in  after  times 
She  hath  stirred  the  thought  again  ; 

While  Memory  kept  the  book  of  rhymes, 
The  Monk  usurped  the  pen. 

But  anon  the  Press  with  glory  shone, 
And  our  word  and  speech  at  last, 

Into  a  thousand  voices  grown, 
Whispered  the  secret  vast. 

And  straightway  hands  with  eager  zest 
Caught  the  accents  of  her  tongue, 

Tho'  many  a  heartache  and  test 
Fore'er  remain  unsung. 

Phonography,  in  these  days  of  steam, 
When  the  lightning  flashes  by, 

Writes  our  thoughts  like  vanishing  gleam, 
And  reads  them  as  they  fly. 

No  more  the  gold  of  our  words  shall  rust, 
But  the  beauteous  gems  of  thought 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  39 

Shall  turn  anon  to  diamond  dust, 
By  art  of  penman  caught. 

The  little  elf,  that  her  task  is  done, 

Has  taken  again  her  flight, 
To  bring,  when  sands  of  need  are  run, 

Another  and  better  light. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  October,  1858. 


hopes. 

Where  are  the  hopes  that  have  never  been  realized  — 
Hopes  that  were  born  but  to  wither  and  die, 

As  beautiful  flowers  that  rise  'mid  the  desert, 
Or  mirage  that  greets  the  wan  traveller's  eye? 

Gone  !  like  the  hour  that  gave  them  a  hearing  ; 

Gone  !  like  the  bubble  that  floats  on  the  wave  ; 
Chased  by  still  brighter  that  dancing  before  us, 

All,  all  have  now  gone  to  the  same  common  grave. 

Fled  !  like  the  heart's  most  sweetly  tried  pleasures: 
Like  roses  that  blast  while  they're  gaining  their  birth  ; 

Or  like  the  fond  child  which  the  parents  most  cherished, 
When  seeming  the  dearest,  then  snatched  from  the 
earth. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  1858. 


40  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


3fn  pour 

She  's  a  very  pretty  maid, 

Is  this  winsome  friend  of  mine, 
With  her  eyes  so  deeply  blue 

That  you  'd  vow  they  were  divine; 
But  when  I  tell  her  of  it. 

Then  she  only  makes  reply  — 
"O  witches!  witches!   witches! 

They  are  dancing  in  your  eye." 

She's  the  most  bewitching  curls 

Ever  saucy  maiden  shook; 
Her  voice  is  soft  and  soothing 

Like  the  murmur  of  a  brook  ; 
When  honestly  I  tell  her, 

How  provoking  the  reply  — 
"  O  witches  !   witches  !  witches  ! 

They  are  dancing  in  your  eye.  " 

And  she  has  the  sweetest  lips 
That  a  lover  e'er  did  taste ; 

I  kiss  the  very  fingers 

That  have  stolen  round  her  waist ; 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  41 

I  tell  her  of  my  worship, 

But  she  only  says,  "O  fie  ! 
I  know  I  see  the  witches, 

Dancing  in  your  roguish  eye." 

I  caress  her  rounded  neck, 

And  I  pinch  her  blushing  cheek, 
And  coax  the  pretty  dimples 

That  are  playing  hide  and  seek ; 
When  telling  e'er  so  gently 

Of  the  heaven  when  she  's  nigh —   ' 
With  pretty  pout  she  answers, 

"Ah  !   the  witches  in  your  eye." 

I  know  not  if  she  loves  me 

And  I  dare  not  ask  the  sprite  ; 
Whenever  I  am  near  her, 

Resolutions  take  their  flight  ; 
Now  isn't  it  provoking 

That  my  heart  will  be  so  shy 
Because  the  hussy  taunts  me 

With  the  witches  in  my  eye  ? 


Rochester,  N.Y.,  1858. 


4.2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


On  a  Picture. 

I  've  the  sweetest  little  picture 
Of  my  darling  one,  my  own  ; 

And  it  whispers,  "  Pet,  I  love  you," 
As  I  view  it  here  alone. 

And  I  press  it  to  my  bosom, 
And  I  clasp  it  closer  still, 

And  I  cover  it  with  kisses  — 
Aye  !  and  worship  it  I  will. 

Do  not  chide  my  fond  devotion  ; 

For  a  thousand  scenes  of  yore 
Kindest  mem'ry  ever  bringeth, 

As  I  view  it  o'er  and  o'er. 

When  I  press  it,  though  'tis  silent, 

And  adjure  it  as  I  may, 
It  doth  only  smile  upon  me  — 

And  I  sadly  turn  away. 

And  there  are  the  jetty  ringlets, 

I,  in  fond  dalliance  toss  ; 
But  they  yield  not  to  my  pressure, 

As  I  press  the  glass  across. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  43 

And  there,  too,  the  matchless  eyes  are 
Laughing  wildly,  full  of  glee  ; 

But  they  glance  not  half  so  loving 
As  I  've  seen  them  do  on  me. 

Perfect !  aye,  in  every  feature  — 

All  that's  beautiful  I  view, 
Gathered  in  this  fairy  picture  — 

In  this  picture,  love,  of  you. 
Rochester,  N.Y.,  February  I,  1859. 

&  Valentine. 

I  'm  yours,  be  jabers,  me  honey, 

And  willfully  too,  I  '11  avow  ; 
Better  than  jewels  or  money 

Would  be  just  such  a  nice  little  frow. 

There  's  a  snicker  dwells  in  your  eye, 
And  it  plays  the  de'il  with  my  heart ; 

And  not  even  Kilkenny  cats  vie 

With  the  music  your  swate  lips  impart. 

And  troth  !  now  you  must,  by  me  soul, 
Make  oath  you  're  me  darlint  divine, 

Or  I  '11  put  you  the  quicker  in  goal, 
Is  the  vow  of 

Your  Own  Valentine. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  February  18,  1859. 


44  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Dedicated  to  Delia  Spaulding. 

The  body  here  enthralls  the  soul, 
And  wields  a  tyrant's  power  ; 
In  vain  it  struggles  to  be  free, 
Its  clipped  wings  all  powerless  be, 
Its  eyes  eclipsed  from  day. 

But  God  hath  given  moments  here 

When  one  by  one  the  clouds 
Lift  from  the  leaden  skies  o'erhead, 
And  heaven's  beams  serenely  shed 
Light  what  the  carnal  shrouds. 

Few  windows  hath  the  captive  left 

By  ill's  destroying  power, 
But  now  and  then  it  hears  a  note 
Come  floating  from  some  angel  throat 
That  frees  it  for  an  hour. 

Music  !  how  it  can  thrill  the  heart 

To  gentle  influ'nce  giv'n  ; 
What  melodies,  what  sweetness,  roll, 
Ecstatic  murmurs,  thru  the  soul  ! 
O,  'tis  a  taste  of  heav'n  ! 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  45 

Supremely  blest  who  feels  its  charm. 

Borne  on  its  rising  wing, 
We  seem  wrapt  in  celestial  fire, 
And  hear  the  echoes  of  the  choir 

That  with  the  seraphs  sing. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  March  12,  1859. 


O  wond'rous  book  !    What  treasures  lie 

Within  this  ample  scroll  ! 
TV  inspired  Poet  sweeps  his  lyre, 

Its  music  fills  the  soul. 
Jehovah  speaks,  and,  silence-awed, 

We  tremble  at  His  voice  ; 
The  Saviour  hence  in  mercy  looks, 

And  heav'n  and  earth  rejoice  ; 
The  Prophet  views  within  the  veil 

God's  plans  as  they  are  willed  ; 
The  great  Apostles,  ages  on, 

Proclaim  them  as  fulfilled  ; 
Law  and  Mercy  here  are  met, 

And  promised  Peace  is  found  ; 
Pardon  and  Grace  and  Love  from  God 

Immeasur'bly  abound. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  April,  1859. 


46  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Co  ^ftolltc. 

Go  with  our  blessing  !  We  but  wish  thee  well, 
Though  loath  to  have  the  ties  of  friendship  riv'n. 

A  bond  more  sacred  draws  thee,  then  farewell  ! 
Be  thine  the  bliss  of  union  heaven-giv'n. 

Go  with  our  blessing,  bonnie  bride,  and  know, 
Whate'er  befalls  thee  in  this  world  of  change, 

One  heart  with  friendship-flame  shall  softly  glow 
True  unto  thee  till  to  itself  grown  strange. 

Go  with  our  blessing  !    Who  could  wish  thee  ill, 
Thou  child  upon  the  threshold  of  new  life  ? 

Kind  Fortune  !   suffer  not  her  hopes  to  chill, 
But  be  she  e'er  as  now,  a  loving  wife. 

Her  heart  hath  known  its  sorrow, — whose  hath  not 
'Twas  but  the  presence  of  a  cloudy  night, 

For  lo  !   the  dawn  has  come,  and  O  !   the  morrow 
Shall  ever  be  as  now  begun,  all  bright. 

To  Mary  Streeter,  Rochester,  N.Y.,  1860. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  47 


Ah,  me  !  thought  I  in  my  younger  days, 

No  lassie  my  heart  shall  share  ; 
But  I  '11  sun  my  wings  in  their  beautiful  rays, 

And  drink  in  the  breath  of  the  fair. 

But  fortunate  gifts  are  the  meed  of  all 
Whom  the  gods  delight  to  cherish, 

And  the  hours  came  on  with  kind  footfall 
That  bade  my  resolves  to  perish. 

A  sweet,  soft  voice  has  a  charm  for  me. 

Two  eyes,  with  beautiful  vision, 
Look  down  in  my  heart  that  is  sworn  to  be 

Those  dear  eyes'  true  elysian. 

The  bonds  I  could  not  brook  to  be  borne, 

By  some  strange  fascination 
I  gather  them  now,  and  clasp  me  round 

In  fondest  conjugation. 


48  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

To  be  engaged  !     O,  who  may  sing 

How  lonely  is  life's  wrestle, 
Till  the  dove  of  love  folds  its  beautiful  wing 

In  the  ark  of  the  heart  to  nestle. 

To  be  engaged  !     Delightful  thus, 

'Mid  wooing  and  caressing, 
To  plan  the  joys  of  a  wedded  bliss, 

A  future  fraught  with  blessing. 

No  shade  to  tinge  the  glowing  scene, 

No  sigh  of  sly  distrust ; 
But  a  magic  rapport  two  hearts  between 

Till  dust  returns  to  dust. 

'Tis  glorious  freedom  to  be  engaged 
When  hearts  are  warm  and  loyal  ; 

The  lonely  toil  is  the  unassuaged, 
Imparted  joy  is  royal. 

Carlton,  N.Y.,  February,  1862. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  49 


battle  of 

Sad  is  the  wail  from  a  nation's  lips, 

As  the  tale  of  strife  is  told; 
And  we  count  the  brave  who  have  found  a  grave 

Beneath  Virginian  mold. 

The  gallant  men  of  our  army  came 

To  the  river's  brink  that  day  ; 
While  the  shot  and  shell  so  thickly  fell, 

Yet  stoutly  battled  they. 

One  hundred  o'er  the  river  of  death 

Swept  on  to  the  thither  shore  ; 
And  they  captured  or  slew  a  murd'rous  crew, 

And  trophies  homeward  bore. 

Then  swift  the  fatal  bridges  spanned 

The  tide  of  the  dark  river ; 
On  each  loyal  brigade  moves,  undismayed, 

They  blanch  not,  nor  quiver. 

So  roars  the  battle.     God  from  heaven  ! 
Why  bursts  not  a  fiery  breath 


o  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

To  scatter  the  traitors,  the  freedom  haters, 
And  lay  them  prone  in  death? 

On  move  our  men  so  bravely  that  day, 

And  smile  at  the  conflict  dire  ; 
But  few  return  from  the  waves  that  burn 

That  fatal  plain  of  fire. 

In  vain  they  charge  up  the  blazing  crest 

From  out  the  deadly  valley  ; 
As  the  storms  of  lead  and  iron  sped, 

They  sank  no  more  to  rally. 

Till  darkness  came  on  and  stayed  the  tide 

They  bore  the  unequal  strife  ; 
Not  an  arm  had  failed,  not  a  heart  had  quailed, 

For  their  country  was  better  than  life. 

Written  just  after  hearing  of  the  battle. 
Baldwinsville,  N.Y.,  December,  1862. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Lints 

On  the  Death  of  Deacon  Lewis  Denny. 

Kind  was  the  heart  that 's  chilled, 
Pleasant  the  voice  that 's  stilled, 

Sadly  we  grieved. 
The  husband,  and  father  too, 
Faithful  and  fond  and  true, 

Ah  !  how  bereaved. 

The  light  of  religion  glowed 
Warm  in  his  life,  and  flowed 

Out  to  the  view. 
Friend  of  the  poor  was  he, 
O'erfull  of  charity, 

Tender  and  true. 

No  more  on  earth  we  '11  meet 
Him  whom  our  love  would  greet 

Still,  as  of  old. 
But  our  fond  hearts  recall 
Memories  dear,  and  all 

Precious  as  gold. 


52  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Under  the  summer  sky 
There  the  dear  dust  doth  lie, 

Waiting  to  rise. 
Summer  is  always  where 
Christ  and  his  loved  ones  are, 

In  Paradise. 

Carlton,  N.Y.,  October  I,  1863. 


Sleep  on,  ye  dead,  who  sculptured  are 
In  Liberty's  high  temple-niche  ; 

No  storied  death  of  bard  or  sage 
Doth  so  earth's  honor-scroll  enrich. 

Sleep  on,  ye  dead  !     Your  blood  shall  be 
The  call  to  millions  who  shall  go  ; 

They  listen  to  your  voice  of  fame, 
The  sweetest  music  they  can  know. 

Sleep  on,  ye  dead  !     But  ever  near 

Their  whispering  lures  are  on  the  breeze  ; 

High  words  of  hope  and  heav'nly  cheer  — 
These  sacred  dead  can  offer  these. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  53 

Sleep  on,  ye  dead  !     Be  ours  to  hear 
The  storm  of  shot  and  bursting  shell, 

To  keep  the  flag  ye  shrouded  wear, 
Defending  which  ye  bravely  fell. 

Brave  spirits  these  !     God  knows  them  well. 

Ben  Adhem's  fault  their  fault  hath  been  : 
Their  flag,  and  honor  too,  they  loved, 

And  e'en  they  loved  their  fellow  men. 

Sleep  on,  ye  dead  !    God  marketh  where 
The  sparrows  fall.     We  leave  you  now, 

Calm  be  your  rest  !     No  battle-pain 
Shall  wrinkle  o'er  your  pallid  brow. 

To  live  as  ye  have  lived,  for  man, 

And  with  the  patriot's  meed  to  die, — 

Your  dust  in  honor  more  than  bronze  or  stone 
Shall  sleep  in  glory's  temple  high. 

Arlington,  District  of  Columbia,  1865. 


54  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Lobe  anto  3Dut?. 

O  Lord  of  love,  thy  love  is  life  to  me. 

How  safe  am  I  within  its  sheltering  arms  ! 
If  thou  wert  angry,  whither  should  I  flee  : 

But  thy  love  frees  me  from  life's  rude  alarms. 

It  knows  no  changes,  mingles  no  alloy, 
Moves  ever  with  me  as  the  days  I  spend, 

Allays  my  sorrow,  multiplies  my  joy  ; 
It  shows  no  weakness,  as  it  has  no  end. 

When  rudely  beat  the  storms  about  my  way, 
How  blest  the  heart  of  my  true  Lord  to  share  ! 

No  shadow-cloud  can  e'er  eclipse  my  day, 
No  harm  befall  me  while  He  keeps  me  there. 

Let  duty  call  me,  then,  though  dangers  lie 
Thick  as  autumnal  leaves  about  my  path  ; 

From  duty's  post  the  faithful  never  fly, 
The  true  to  Christ  no  peril  ever  hath. 

Adams,  N.Y.,  September  10,  1873. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  55 


•Beauty  Proton 

Ah,  me  !   what  are  eyes  that  they  dazzle  us  so, 
Glinting  into  our  hearts  as  they  come  and  go  ? 
Is  color  their  magic,  black,  hazel,  or  blue  ? 
I  cannot  say  surely  it  is  not.      Can  you  ? 

My  eyes  that  are  beauties  are  marvellous  brown, 
With  richness  of  lustre  and  softness  of  down  ; 
And  each  changing  glance  gives  a  variant  hue. 
Who  knows  how  the  glances  can  charm  us  ?    Do  you  ? 

Sweet  eyes,  full  of  witches,  thrill  me  with  delight  ; 
Sweet  eyes  that  I  love  set  in  opaline  white ; 
Brown  eyes  and  long  lashes  with  soul  looking  thru. 
Is  soul  what  enchants  us  ?     I  say  not  ;  do  you  ? 

My  beauty  brown  eyes,  full  of  soul,  full  of  fire, 
Speak  softly  of  love  and  are  fond  with  desire. 
The  womanly  heart  of  these  eyes  that  are  true 
May  tell  what  has  charmed  me.     I  do  not,  do  you  ? 

Whenever  I  meet  them,  in  country  or  town, 
The  blue  eyes  or  black  eyes,  or  hazel  or  brown, 


56  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

If  the  beauty  brown  eyes  be  mine,  then  for  you 

Be  the  black  eyes  that  flash,  or  the  blue  that  are  true. 

If  the  brown  eyes  look  scorn,  my  heart  rings  alarm ; 
If  friendly  they  turn,  it  responds  to  the  charm  ; 
If  the  old  light  dies  out,  hope  dies  with  me  too  ; 
If  it  gleams,  it  says  the  brown  eyes  are  for  you. 

Adams,  N.Y.,  September  15,  1873. 


Courage. 

Courage  !   The  world  is  on  wings  !    Don't  you  see? 
Today  its  dark  shadows  may  flit  over  thee, 
Tomorrow  its  face  shall  gleam  like  the  sun. 
Whisper  this  to  thy  heart,  thou  sorrowing  one. 

Courage  !  The  world  is  on  wings  !   Don't  you  know 
Today  for  others  true  pleasure  may  flow, 
But  tomorrow,  to  those  who  can  wait  for  the  cup, 
The  joy  shall  be  deeper  for  waiting.     Cheer  up  ! 

Courage  !   The  world  is  on  wings  !   Art  dismayed  ? 
It  cannot  keep  bright  eyes  always  in  shade. 
Pray  and  believe,  and  your  light,  to  be  sure, 
The  longer  it  waits,  will  the  longer  endure. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  57 

Courage  !  The  world  is  on  wings  !   See  it  go  ! 
Its  movement  the  tried  spirit  deemeth  but  slow. 
Yet  blessings  divine  are  worth  all  they  can  cost, 
And  patience  in  waiting  on  Christ  is  not  lost. 

Waterville,  Maine,  January  1 6,   1874. 


I  've  a  vision  sweet  to  tell  you, 

Of  an  angel  discovered  below, 
Fairer  and  sweeter  than  "Christabel" 

As  we  saw  her  in  "long  ago." 

She  came  when  the  birds  of  summer 

Were  singing  their  sweetest  lays, 
When  the  flowers  grow  fair  and  lovely 

And  the  light-winged  zephyr  plays. 

She  came  as  the  angels  come, 

At  the  twilight  hour  of  day, 
With  a  footstep  light  as  a  fairy 

And  a  heart  like  the  sunny  May. 

She  'd  a  brow  as  fair  as  the  snowdrift, 
And  her  eyes  were  soft  and  blue, 

And  you  'd  thought  she  'd  woven  the  sunbeams 
In  her  ringlets  of  golden  hue. 


5  8  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

But  soon  we  missed  our  Myrtle, 

And  we  sought  where  the  bird  had  flown 

Alas  !   the  flower  was  fading, 

The  prize  we  had  thought  our  own. 

As  the  bright  leaves  fade  in  the  autumn, 
And  the  freshest  blown  roses  decay, 

As  the  birds  of  the  summer  fly  homeward, 
So  Myrtie  was  taken  away. 

And  we  buried  her  there  in  the  valley 

In  the  twilight  alone, 
And  the  grass  is  green  above  her, 

And  the  flowers  are  sweetly  blown. 

And  they  say,  as  often  homeward 
The  workman  bends  his  way, 

That  he  stops  by  the  grave  in  the  valley 
And  bows  him  low  to  pray. 

And  a  thousand  blessings  daily 

Are  left  by  the  passing  few 
On  Myrtie,  the  daughter  of  sunshine, 

Who  went  like  the  early  dew. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  March  7,  1880. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  59 


®toentp=ffftl)  Slnnitcrjfarp,  Claea  of  1858. 

At  the  Class  Tree,  University  of  Rochester. 

Thus  sang  my  Muse,  May  day  of  "  '58," 
When  gathered  here  this  sapling  tree  we  set ; 

Tho'  time  has  reft  us,  we  now  meet  elate 
To  sing  and  say  our  oldtime  blessings  yet. 

So  flew  the  years,  as  hours  flee  ; 

Today  we  're  met,  in  genial,  merry  mind, 
Around  this  firstling  of  a  giant  tree, 

Perhaps  to  leave  it  evermore  behind  ; 
Telling  who  set,  who  love  it,  and  who  ever, 

While  time  shall  spare  us,  with  unwavering 

power, 
Shall  hold  in  mem'ry  till  life's  bond  shall  sever 

The  recollection  of  this  pleasing  hour. 

A  few  more  years,  and,  like  the  autumn  leaves 

Down  falling  by  the  early  frost, 
Our  manhood  days  in  ripened  sheaves 

Will  be  all  gathered.     Not  one  that 's  lost 
Will  e'er  come  back  to  claim  its  right. 

And  so  we  part,  some  here,  some  there, 


60  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

To  float  life's  fretted  sea  a  night, 
(  As  waifs  are  lifted  by  the  rushing  tide, ) 
Ere  comes  the  day  eternal,  ever  fair. 

Busy  care  shall  thus  consume  away 

These  healthy  frames ;  the  flush  of  strength 

Be  changed  into  life's  feeble  beat,  and  the  gray 
Participators  in  this  scene  at  length 

Shall  lay  life's  burdens  at  the  Master's  feet, 

'Round  God's  great  tree  of  life  again  to  meet. 

Five  years  and  twenty,  with  their  logic  stern, 
Have  wrought  wide  changes  in  our  youthful 
band. 

Hopes  kindled  high  have  ceased  to  burn, 

And  garlands  fair  have  turned  to  ropes  of  sand. 

Dear  classmates,  still,  whatever  fate  we  've  met, 
Our  good  we  laud,  our  failings  we  forget, 
While  those  brave  men  who  to  the  summit  climb 
We  honor  well  and  glad  their  praises  chime. 
But  five  and  twenty  years  again  shall  pass, 
Then  where  shall  be  these  brethren  of  our  class  ? 
God  knows !     God  bless  us,  and  God  speed  us  all, 
Till  at  His  throne  our  lifted  crowns  shall  fall. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  July,  1883. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  61 


,  the  Squirrel 

One  day  in  July, — how  quick  the  months  fly  !  — 
In  Bath,  on  the  wharf,  Sniggles  met  us. 

With  a  tear  in  her  eye  and  a  sorrowful  cry, 
She  said,  as  we  looked,  "  Come  and  get  us." 

And  "  Please  let  me  come  to  your  dear  island  home, 
And  swing  in  your  hammock  and  play  ; 

You  shall  laugh  at  my  plights,  and  I  '11  sleep  with 

you  nights, 
And  down  on  the  rocks  we  will  stray. 

"  I  will  take  from  your  dish  either  meat,  milk  or  fish; 

On  the  table  I  '11  walk  if  you  '11  let  me  ; 
When  the  cunners  you  hook,  I  '11  go  with  you  and 
look, 

And  I  '11  eat  till  you  whistle  and  get  me. 

"  In  the  brave  'Tirzah  Jane*  we  '11  glide  o'er  the 

main, 

The  taffrail  I  '11  walk  while  we  sail  ; 
Strange  islands  we  '11  see,  but  you  '11  never  lose  me, 
My  attachment  to  you  shall  not  fail. 


6z 

"  When  westward  you  go,  I  will  follow  you  so 
I  am  sure  you  will  take  me  along  ;  • 

By  steamer  or  rail,  I  '11  be  good  without  fail, 
And  I  Ml  sing  you  my  cosiest  song. 

"  Pretty  tricks  I  will  play  —  on  your  hand  I  will  lay, 
But  you  'd  better  look  out  for  my  claw  ; 

With  a  bright  looking  face  and  a  quick  moving  grace, 
When  you  feed  me  I  Ml  give  you  my  paw. 

"Little  kits  you  shall  see,  just  as  cunning  and  wee, 

With  colors  all  matching  my  own ; 
And  I  Ml  leave  you  to  care  for  these  orphans  so  fair, 

While  you  bury  me  here  all  alone. 

"  My  life,  bright  and  brief,  only  ended  in  grief; 

Many  thanks  for  your  kindness  I  give. 
In  your  memory  hold  your  Sniggles  of  old; 

With  you  it  was  pleasure  to  live. 

"  In  the  pear-tree  shade,  where  I  often  have  played, 

Let  my  grave  be  tenderly  made  ; 
In  a  pretty  lined  casket  (is  it  too  much  to  ask  it?) 
Your  Sniggles  would  gently  be  laid." 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  September,  1885. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  63 


3Tn  ;fftem0riam  —  ^fHp  parents. 

Rev.  Moses  Merrill  and  Eliza  Wilcox  Merrill  his  wife. 

Where  join  Missouri  and  the  Platte, 

Far  from  the  white  man's  cot, 
In  quest  devoted  and  sincere 

These  heroes  cast  their  lot. 

A  trackless  prairie  blossomed  there, 

The  red  man  roamed  the  wild 
To  them  they  brought  the  truth  of  God 

As  father  brings  to  child. 

In  school  and  church  he  labored  well, 

In  wigwam  or  the  chase  ; 
His  word,  his  work,  his  life  he  gave 

To  save  a  dying  race. 

Ta-pooth-ka — "Man  who  speaks  the  truth," 

This  is  the  name  he  won  ; 
They  trusted  him,  believed  in  him 

And  mourned  when  life  was  done. 


64  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

In  hope  and  faith  he  breathed  his  last, 

And  by  the  river  sleeps. 
The  wife  and  orphan  left  his  dust 

Where  God  the  vigil  keeps. 

The  wigwam,  and  the  red-man,  too, 
Give  way  to  scene  more  fair ; 

Memorial  bell  at  Plattsmouth  rings 
This  good  man's  call  to  prayer. 

Servants  of  God,  at  peace  you  rest; 

No  perils  now  are  yours. 
The  work  ye  wrought  for  others'  good 

For  others'  good  endures. 

Mount  Vernon,  February  10,  1909,  and 
Plattsmouth,  Nebraska,  1889. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  65 


for  ©ttr  £)eai. 

Mount  Hope. 

How  many  hopes  lie  buried  here 

Our  Maker  only  knows ; 
Their  presence  makes  the  place  as  dear 

As  perfume  makes  the  rose. 


The  years  sweep  by  with  steady  tread, 
And  crowd  the  roll  of  sacred  dead. 
When  we,  who  knew  and  loved  them  well, 
Have  passed  to  where  their  spirits  dwell, 
Ah,  who  will  earthly  vigil  keep 
Where  our  darlings  sleep  their  sleep  ? 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  June  23,  1889. 

Our  eldest  born,  Edward  Wentworth  Merrill,  Telegraph  Editor  of 
the  Rochester  Daily  Herald,  died  at  twenty  years  of  age,  May 
21,  1886. 


66  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Lotoe'0  Dream. 

Was  it  a  dream  that  love  is  found 

A  rapture  pure  and  sweet, 
Where  hearts  in  bonds  divine  are  bound 

And  love  makes  life  complete  ? 

I  dreamed  it  thus  in  youth's  bright  hour  ; 

My  idol  won  my  heart ; 
But  life  despoiled  the  marriage  bower, 

And  bliss  and  I  must  part. 

My  dream  is  vanished  in  despair, 

My  hopes  to  ashes  fly, 
As  garland  flowers,  light  as  air 

In  faded  beauty  lie. 

Ah  !  wilful  was  the  hand  that  clave 

That  cup  of  joy  so  pure  ; 
That  spirit  selfish  as  the  grave, 

To  leave  love's  heart  so  poor. 

Not  all  a  dream  !   not  always  so  ! 

Some  lives  with  joy  are  light, 
Some  homes  with  all  its  radiance  glow, 

Some  hearts  with  love  are  bright. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  December  3,  1890. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  67 


For  Clara  Henrietta  Thacher  and  Francis  White  Stedman. 

Fresh  flowers  bring  for  bride  so  fair, 

Violets  rich  and  lilies  rare ; 
With  him  she  weds  the  roses  share, 

The  brave,  the  debonair. 

The  perfumes  precious  richly  send, 
And  odors  sweet  in  plenty  blend, 

While  happy  hearts  their  joyance  lend 
Till  love  and  life  shall  end. 

Let  music  breathe  its  trancing  spell, 
And  brightest  notes  of  promise  tell ; 

Of  joy's  emprize  and  sorrow's  knell 
The  pealing  organ  swell. 

These  words  be  violets  that  fall, 
Be  flowers,  perfume,  music-thrall, 

While  heart  weds  heart  in  marriage  call, 
Christ's  blessing  over  all. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  February  13,  1893. 


68  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


"&l)t  i)atl)  Bone  toljat  ghe  couli." 

Lines  on  the  death  of  Mrs.  Caroline  Shuler  Woolverton, 
wife  of  George  Alonzo  Woolverton,  of  Albany,  N.  Y. 

Ah  !  cold  grows  the  form,  and  dimmed  is  the  eye, 

And  palsied  the  hand  is  for  aye  ; 
And  hushed  is  the  heart  and  stilled  is  the  breath, 

The  tenant  is  passing  away. 

Not  there  is  that  soul  in  the  casket  so  drear, 
Not  there  where  death  has  its  day  ; 

But  that  life  and  that  mind  an  eternity  find  — 
Thou  shalt  meet  them  in  brighter  array. 

How  swift  is  the  flight  of  industrious  years 

Since  these  on  the  voyage  of  life, 
With  banners  of  hope  and  garlands  of  love, 

Set  sail  as  husband  and  wife. 

How  holy  the  ties  of  such  marriage  become  ! 

How  happy  the  heirs  of  that  love  ! 
Best  of  mothers  was  she ;  saddest  mourners  are  ye  — 

Till  ye  meet  her  in  heaven  above. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  August,  1894. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  69 

;ffttne  Etm,  1863, 

And  Captain  Silvanus  Shuler  Wilcox,  of  Albany,  N.Y. 

His  college  sent  him  forth 

One  of  her  honored  sons ; 
Soci'ty  labeled  him 

Among  her  favored  ones. 

Business  had  offered  him 

The  choicest  of  her  gifts  ; 
Love  had  rewarded  him 

With  the  hope  that  uplifts. 

War-clouds  were  low'ring  then 

Our  country's  life  to  blast ; 
Heard  he  the  nation's  call, 

His  Rubicon  was  passed. 

Captain  they  chose  him  well, 

As  able  .he  as  brave  ; 
Yet  Fame  but  offered  him 

A  patri't's  early  grave. 

Mine  Run  was  where  he  fell, 

The  sacrifice  in  vain  ; 
He  said,  "My  mother  tell, 

I  'd  give  my  life  again." 


jo  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

'Gainst  a  tree  they  propped  him 
When  slowly  life  had  fled  ; 

His  men  that  cold  hand  grasped, 
Their  last  "Good-bye"  was  said. 

Retreating,  they  left  him  ; 

The  tears  were  on  their  cheeks. 
Another  life  for  man 

God's  honor-roll  bespeaks. 


Lifetime  jFrienU. 

An  Acrostic. 

George  was  true  —  this  friend  of  mine, 
Each  trust  in  life  he  deemed  divine  ; 
One  who  in  honor  none  excel, 
"  Right  "  was  the  word  he  loved  so  well 
Gain  seemed  the  evil  he  would  shun, 
Earth  's  better  for  the  work  he  's  done. 

Low  he  lies  in  soil  he  tilled, 
Buried  where  his  days  were  filled  ; 
Envy  could  not  curse  his  soul, 
Nor  revenge  his  heart  control. 
Tell  me,  ye  who  knew  him  well, 
Ought  that  life  in  lethe  dwell  ? 
"No,"  a  thousand  answers  tell. 


My  Loves  and  My  Levers  7  i 


©ttr  Squirrel 

Dedicated  to  the  Ladies'  Society  of  Squirrel  Island,  Maine, 
and  Professor  Edward  M.  Bowman,  A.G.O.,  F.C.M. 

O  island  of  evergreen  verdure  ! 

Our  bright  summer  home  by  the  sea  ! 
Thy  breath  is  all  balmy  with  flowers, 

Thy  woods  waft  their  fragrance  so  free  ; 
Thy  rocks  glisten  white  o'er  the  waters, 

A  welcome  of  joy  to  our  view, 
And,  grateful,  thy  sons  and  thy  daughters 

Lift  o'er  thee  the  red,  white,  and  blue. 

Here  Hope  lights  anew  her  proud  beacon, 

Here  Health  waits  again  evermore, 
Here  Friendship  renews  her  fond  greeting, 

Here  Rest  lures  us  safe  to  thy  shore ; 
Thy  waves  lapping  music  before  us, 

Fair  isles  and  bright  skies  in  our  view, 
Sweet  songs  of  the  birds  floating  o'er  us 

As  we  raise  here  the  red,  white,  and  blue. 

Here  Memory  holds  her  fair  treasures 
Of  Fellowship,  Truth,  and  of  Love  ; 


72  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

And  brightly  they  sparkle  around  us 
As  the  stars  in  the  azure  above. 

Here  aged  and  youth  stand  together, 

Pledging  "Squirrels  we  '11  ever  be  true," 

With  glad  hearts  and  voices  uplifted 

As  we  float  here  the  red,  white,  and  blue. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  August  8,  1894. 


©ne  of  tfce  Jrto. 

Miss  Clara  Peck. 

'Mid  the  many  and  the  lowly 
There  she  had  her  humble  birth  ; 

Only  angels  knew  how  holy 

Was  this  child  who  came  to  earth. 

Where  the  busy  throng  was  thickest, 
Where  was  poverty  and  crime, 

Where  the  pangs  of  want  were  quickest 
There  was  found  this  soul  sublime. 

Vainly  wooed  this  love  or  other ; 

She  would  share  the  nobler  strife, 
T'  help  a  widowed,  struggling  mother 

Rear  her  children  up  to  life. 


My  Loves  and  My  Loven  73 

What  if  fell  disease  should  take  her  ! 

What  if  wage  and  life  were  lost  ! 
This  were  only  aim  to  make  her 

Proud  to  die  at  such  a  cost. 

So  she  sleeps,  and  this  the  story  ; 

No  one  sees  the  grave  she  shares. 
Now  God's  angels  speak  her  glory  ; 

She  's  found  honor  unawares. 

Died  June  5,  1895,  aged  thirty  years. 


'  Call. 

Patter  the  feet  along  the  street, 
Ring  the  schoolward  voices  clear  ; 

Let  the  coo  and  call  of  the  schoolmates  fall 
On  the  eager  listening  ear. 

Whose  feet  shall  chill,  whose  voice  be  still, 
Of  these  who  pass  your  door  ? 

The  brightest  of  all  and  sprightliest  call 
Are  the  ones  we  hear  no  more. 

O  call  divine  !   O  loved  of  thine  ! 

Sounds  heaven's  charming  voice  ; 
The  school-books  fall,  and  earth-loves  all 

Are  left  for  her  Saviour's  choice. 


74  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

She  seeks  His  arms,  she  speaks  His  charms, 

Death  has  no  terrors  now  ; 
To  Him  she  flies,  with  Him  she  dies, 

His  "new  name"  on  her  brow. 

In  visions  fair  we  see  her,  where 

To  heaven  she  brings  us  nigh  ; 
Her  call  rings  clear  to  loved  ones  dear, 

As  it  did  in  the  days  gone  by. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  October  15,  1895. 

Mabel  Adams,  the  little  daughter  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Myron  H. 
Adams,  of  Rochester,  N.Y.  She  left  them  for  the  Lord  she 
loved,  in  February,  1895,  and  her  school -girl  call  ceased  to  echo 
on  the  street. 


l£)jnnn. 

God  of  our  Fathers  !    here  we  raise 
Our  hymn  of  lofty,  grateful  praise  ; 
All  glory  Thine,  Eternal  One, 
Almighty  Father,  Spirit,  Son. 

To  Thee  our  tribute-blessings  throng ; 
Thy  love  and  favor  claim  our  song ; 
Our  cheerful  hearts  give  thanks  and  sing 
The  mercies  of  our  God  and  King. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  75 

This  house  with  all  it  holds  be  Thine  ! 
Gifts  of  the  heart,  gifts  of  the  mine. 
We  dedicate  it,  Lord,  to  Thee  ! 
Seal  it  forever,  Thine  to  be. 

Claiming  this  temple  for  Thine  own, 
Here  make  Thy  gracious  presence  known; 
While  sermon,  organ,  voice,  and  prayer 
Thy  power  and  blessing  ever  share. 

Written  for  and  sung  to  the  tune  "Duke  Street"  at  the  dedication 
of  the  Baptist  Temple,  Brooklyn,  December  I,  1895. 


of 

Far  off  in  Judah's  ancient  city, 

Bethlehem  old, 
There  rose  the  star  of  hope  and  pity 

By  prophecy  foretold. 


So  we  hail  thy  rising  splendor, 

Star  of  hope  to  earth  ! 
Heaven's  love  for  us  so  true  and  tender 

Heralds  abroad  its  birth. 


7 6  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Once  angel  words  and  angel  voices 

Brought  men  to  see  ; 
Now  every  heart  that  trusts  rejoices, 

Star  of  the  Heavens,  in  thee. 

Faith  finds  in  thee  its  light  of  beauty, 

Star,  star  divine  ; 
Bright  looks  the  thorny  path  of  duty 

Wherever  thou  dost  shine. 

Bright  stars  may  kindly  glow  and  leave  us, 

This  still  shall  shine ; 
Fond  hopes  may  often  here  deceive  us, 

But  nevermore  will  thine. 

See  how  that  beauteous  star  is  beaming, 

Wider  the  sway, 
Till  we  in  heaven's  glory  gleaming 

Enter  the  perfect  day. 

Written  at  Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  for  the  Baptist  Temple  Sunday- 
school,  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  at  the  request  of  Prof.  E.  M.  Bowman, 
Musical  Director.  Tune,  "Swanee  River." 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  77 


Dedicated  to 

C&e  Cenltan  Cfjoir,  of  ItUtoarfc,  J3.  ]J. 

Prof.  E.  M.  Bowman,  Leader. 

By  the  far-sounding  sea,  Saint  Cecilia,  to  thee 

We  make  this  memorial  shrine ; 
Rock-ribbed  and  eternal,  spruce-crowned  and  supernal, 

Fair  patron  of  Music,  'tis  thine. 

Happy  pilgrims  are  we,  o'er  the  wide  rolling  sea, 

To  thee  our  devotions  aspire  ; 
As  with  chorus  and  song  thy  praise  we  prolong, 

We  're  thine  own  Cecilian  choir. 

And  we  bring  thee  the  fame  we  have  shared  in  thy  name, 
'Mid  pleasures  no  palace  could  mete  ; 

And  the  work  we  have  done  and  the  badges  we  '  ve  won 
We  lovingly  lay  at  thy  feet. 

For  thy  memory,  too,  to  each  other  we  're  true, 

And  our  leader  we  follow  the  more ; 
And  here  oft  may  we  be  at  this  shrine  by  the  sea, 

This  choir  and  leader  galore. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  August  13,  1895. 

Sung  at  the  Memorial  Rock  dedication,  by  the  choir. 


78  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


On  her  Birthday. 

Sweet  babe,  by  heaven  sent, 
How  could'st  thou  be  content 

With  us  to  dwell  ? 
Realms  full  of  cheer  there  were, 
What  could  we  offer  her? 

Answer  and  tell. 

Now  graced  with  womanhood, 
Trained  in  the  true  and  good, 

Forward  she  turns  ; 
Life's  battle  must  be  won, 
Life's  duty  must  be  done, 

This  she  discerns. 

Shrouded  in  myst'ry  grand, 
She  may  not  understand 

Where  duty  leads  ; 
But  from  true  courage  bold 
Naught  can  the  prize  withhold, 

'T  is  Worth  succeeds. 

When  she  to  heav'n  returns, 
And  home  again  discerns 
Bright  as  the  sun, 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  79 


With  her  may  many  stand, 
Led  by  her  loving  hand, 
Her  duty  done. 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  January  15,  1897. 


Death,  death  is  here,  so  waxy  pale. 

How  dwells  such  strength  in  fingers  bold, 
To  seal  your  boy  and  bear  him  hence, 

And  make  that  warm  young  life  so  cold  ? 

His  plate  no  more  is  waiting  laid, 

His  empty  chair  stands  now  in  vain  ; 

His  pillow  finds  no  impress  there, 
His  voice,  his  step,  come  not  again. 

His  last  good-byes  to  friends  are  said, 

Life's  reveille  for  him  is  o'er  ; 
His  lessons  done,  vacation  days 

Verge  on  and  on  forevermore. 

The  plan  of  God  unveils  to  thee, 

Parents  with  mind  and  heart  distressed  ; 

Say  thou,  "He  doeth  all  things  well," 
And  trust  divine  shall  fill  thy  breast. 

His  life  "with  Christ  in  God  is  hid," 
So  yours  beneath  His  sky  may  be  ; 


80  My  Loves  and  Afy  Lovers 

Your  lamb  within  the  fold  is  safe, 
His  tender  Shepherd  leadeth  thee. 

Let  not  a  gloom  dim  all  thy  days  ; 

Two  suns  shine  on  this  world  of  ours : 
The  brightest,  "big  with  righteousness," 

Shall  cheer  thy  way  with  heav'nly  flowers. 

Gordon    Merrill,  the  son  of  Prof,  and   Mrs.  Forbes   (University  of 
Rochester,  N.Y.,)  died  December  24,  1897. 


When  morning  wakes  and  shadows  flee, 
O  may  we,  Lord,  abide  in  thee  ; 

No  care  can  then  our  spirits  blight, 

Thy  hand  our  guide,  thy  smile  our  light. 

Should  sorrows  rend  and  sins  distress, 
If  us  thy  power  and  love  shall  bless, 

No  pangs  can  harm,  no  sins  allure, 
For  thou  art  comfort,  thou  art  pure. 

Tho'  Satan's  darts  could  sorely  wound, 
If  in  thy  grace  our  souls  are  found, 

Thy  love  shall  our  sure  refuge  be, 
While  Satan  with  his  darts  doth  flee. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  July,  1898. 

May  be  sung  to  "  Hursley  "  (Sun  of  my  Soul) . 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  8  1 


10 

We  are  gathered  here,  my  comrades,  in  a  battle  for 

the  Lord, 
He  has  given  us  commission  and  we  dare  not  break 

His  word  ; 
To  save  our  race  and  people  is  the  call  that  we  have 

heard, 

And  Shaw  is  marching  on  ! 

Professionals  are  arming  with  the  law  and  gospel  too, 
Our  Medicals  are  skilled  enough  to  show  what  they 

can  do  ; 
With  grace  and  health  and  order,  our  race  is  coming 

through, 

For  Shaw  is  marching  on  ! 

The  College  with  its  phalanxes  of  men  and  women 

brave, 
Armed  with  the  torch  of  learning,  goes  where  error 

would  enslave, 

And  ignorance  and  superstition  quickly  find  their  grave, 
When  Shaw  goes  marching  on. 

The  school-house,  too,  is  looming  through  the  hazes 

of  the  east  ; 
As  the  sun  in  splendor  rising,  so  its  light  shall  be 

increased  ; 


8  2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

For  the  Normals  are  not  wanting  to  Shaw's  life- 
giving  feast, 

As  Shaw  goes  marching  on. 

And  Estey  lifts  her  pean  —  true  and  noble  would 

she  be ; 
The  Daughters  of  Salvation,  their  nation's  growth 

to  see  ; 
The  homes  of  all  their  people  enlightened,  pure,  and 

free, 

While  Shaw  goes  marching  on  ! 

CHORUS : 

Glory,  glory,  hallelujah  !    Glory,  glory,  hallelujah  ! 
Glory,  glory,  hallelujah  !   Shaw  is  marching  on. 

Shaw  University,  Raleigh,  N.  C.,  1899. 
Charles  Francis  Meserve,  LL.D.,  President. 


Oc  -Uoiuman  SDrama. 

In  Vermont,  they  allege, 
Are  the  farms  set  on  edge, 

Where  they  till  both  sides  if  they  can. 
Here  lived,  I  am  told, 
A  farmer  so  bold 

He  was  .called  by  his  neighbors  —  Bow-man. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  83 

One  episode  thrills 

In  that  home  mid  the  hills, 

If  episode  it  could  be  called  ; 
Little  Edward,  they  say, 
Looked  out  on  the  day, 

But  as  soon  as  he  saw  it  he  squalled. 

His  training  came  early  — 
His  temper  was  curly, 

'T  was  just  the  same  as  his  hair  ; 
On  his  mother's  knee,  Oh  ! 
Lay  this  little  rain-Bow, 

And  her  slipper  just  fitted  him  there. 

With  that  early  bent, 
What  music  he  sent, 

Like  Handel,  the  master  sublime  ! 
Tho'  no  Bow  she  drew, 
'T  was  the  tap  of  her  shoe- 
Piano  on  his  organs  kept  time. 

When  he  grew  to  a  man, 
He  sought  "Mary  Ann," 

Her  Bow  as  gay  as  a  prince  ; 
For  Cupid's  sharp  arrow 
Cleft  clear  to  the  marrow, 

And  the  man  's  been  her  Bow  ever  since. 


84  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Now,  dowered  for  life, 
Fond  music,  dear  wife, 

At  his  call  St.  Cecilia  comes  down  ; 
With  the  love  of  his  art, 
And  the  love  of  his  heart, 

What  wonder  he  wins  such  renown  ! 

Then  came  little  Bess, 
The  sweet  Bowmaness, 

And  the  home  seems  completed  at  length  ; 
So  this  birthday  we  hold, — 
May  he  never  grow  old, 

But  the  Bowman  abide  in  his  strength  ! 

Squirrel  Island,  July  1 8,   1899. 


'T  was  here,  in  stately  Rome, 
Earth's  capital  so  great, 

That  thou  laidst  quickly  down 
Thy  youthful  life  elate. 

Fond  teacher  of  the  way 
To  heaven's  gate  so  near, 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  85 

Thou  foundest  it  thyself, 

Thine  entrance  gate  was  here. 

A  pilgrim  from  the  land 

Of  God's  most  favored  race, 
In  this  old  home  of  Paul 

Thy  footsteps  found  a  place. 

And  as  he  entered  bliss 

From  out  these  mountains  seven, 
So  thou  didst  find  the  way 

From  here,  from  Rome,  to  Heav'n. 

That  spark  so  quick  and  bright, 

So  dear  to  many  a  heart, 
Kindled  by  life  divine, 

Why  should  it  thus  depart? 

God  knew  the  mournful  tale, 

And  Wisdom  cannot  err ; 
God  took  him,  and  He  is 

His  own  interpreter. 

Church,  parent,  wife,  and  friend 

Alike  may  mourn  their  loss  ; 
Their  problem  hard  is  solved, 

They  bear  today  Christ's  cross. 


86  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

So,  softly,  tears  may  fall 

In  sorrow's  bitter  cup  ; 
God's  rainbow  spans  them  all, 

Life's  storms  will  all  clear  up. 

Written  in  Rome,  Italy. 

The  Rev.  George  F.  Love  was  pastor  of  the  West  Baptist  Church, 
Oswego,  N.  Y.,  and  was  among  the  most  efficient  of  the  younger 
ministers  in  the  State  of  New  York.  He  was  stricken  with 
contagion  in  Rome,  and  after  two  weeks'  illness  passed  away  in 
1901,  leaving  his  young  wife,  Mrs.  Harriet  R.  Love,  alone  in  a 
strange  land.  Consul-General  De  Castro  and  Dr.  Taylor's  Mis 
sionary  family  came  grandly  to  her  aid. 


In  far  Algiers,  on  evergreen-crowned  heights, 

God's  acre  fronts  the  sea  ; 
There  sleep  the  dead  in  sunny  peace  at  last, 

For-e'er  to  be. 

On  Afric's  headland,  circling  to  the  bay, 

Under  the  light  blue  skies, 
Mirrored  anear  in  splashing  waters  blue, 

There  's  where  he  lies. 

Life's  bond  of  kinship  had  in  him  their  round 

Of  husband,  sire,  and  son, 
And  love's  fond  thoughts  shall  follow  him  afar, 

Beloved  one. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  87 

Long  was  the  road  from  health  to  where  he  fell, 

The  journey  ever  brave, 
And  well  contested  vict'ry  death  can  boast 

Upon  his  grave. 

The  rest  for  which  he  sighed  is  his  henceforth, 

And  pain  can  rack  no  more. 
Farewell !   God  send  they  all  may  meet  again, 

When  life  is  o'er. 

Algiers,  March  5,  1901. 


from  §>a(jel  to  tljc  l>ea. 

In  Afric',  land  of  sunshine  and  of  story, 
Where  the  blue  waves  lave  a  rugged  shore, 

Where  cities  rose  and  fell,  and  pirates  gory 
Ply  dread  and  savage  orgies  nevermore, — 

There  rise  the  Atlas,  and,  beyond,  the  valley 
Lies  rich  in  blossom,  corn,  and  wine  ; 

The  "  pass  "  that  links  them, where  the  mountains  rally, 
Is  "Chabet,"  dark  and  grand,  almost  divine. 

So  from  the  headland  of  my  life  I  'm  viewing 
The  long  fair  valley  that  my  feet  have  trod, 

Content  to  know  the  path  that  I  'm  pursuing 
Leads  thru  a  "Chabet"  to  the  sea  and  God. 


88  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

I  've  watched  the  joys  of  youth  and  age  a-gleaming 
In  Holy  land  and  land  of  poet's  song; 

In  love  and  friendship  and  in  art  a- dreaming, 
The  joys  of  all  of  them  to  me  belong. 

What  matters  it  that  friendly  climes  are  chilling, 
That  pain,  disease,  and  weariness  combine  ! 

With  heart  still  brave  and  with  a  spirit  willing 
I  '11  live  for  those  who  love  me  and  are  mine. 

So  forth  I  look  :  and  there,  in  picture  beaming, 
Are  childhood,  manhood,  fatherhood,  for  me  ; 

'Mid  Afric'  flowers  and  sunlight  brightly  streaming, 
Life  limns  my  pathway  from  Sahel  to  the  sea. 

Algiers,  March  19,  1901. 


Jftotre  £>ame  U'Sttriqtte,  8  liters. 

Far  out  upon  the  waters  wild 

The  keen-eyed  sailor,  sweeping  by, 

Discerns  a  dome,  a  templed  shrine  : 
'T  is  Notre  Dame  that  greets  his  eye. 

He  knows  that  there,  on  "Holy  day," 
Whate'er  the  cares  of  life  may  be, 

A  prayer  is  said  and  blessings  made  : 
That  blessing  greets  him  o'er  the  sea. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

So  I,  upon  the  sea  of  life, 

'Mid  storm  and  peril  pressing  fast, 

See  "Notre  Dame,"  my  mother's  face, 
And  know  her  love  is  o'er  me  cast. 

Whate'er  my  lot,  where'er  I  be, 

Her  love  and  thought  attend  my  way, 

And  on  life's  verge  she  prays  for  me, 
And  blessings  greet  me  day  by  day. 

God  bless  her  !  keep  her  !  help  her,  too  ! 

Make  grateful  her  declining  days, 
Till,  like  the  temple  by  the  sea, 

She  's  glory-crowned  in  sunset  rays. 

Algiers,  March  29,  1901. 


.3UI)en6  anto  tbc  3mcnran 

Who  loves  thee  not,  has  never  known 

Thy  pride  and  power  and  wond'rous  lore 

Who  loves  thee  not,  has  never  seen 
Thy  sunny  skies  and  welcome  shore. 

Thy  flowers  that  bloom  in  beauty  wild 

Are  set  in  poet's  amber  verse ; 
Thy  trees  that  lift  their  leafy  arms 

Ten  thousand  fairy  deeds  rehearse. 


go  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Who  stirs  a  leaf,  who  picks  a  shell, 
Who  lifts  a  spade  or  turns  a  stone, 

Awakes  some  glory  of  the  past, 
In  storied  beauty  all  its  own. 

From  out  thy  rocky  caves  there  troop 
Those  satyrs,  gay  with  flute  and  dance 

And  from  thy  fortress  peering  down 
Are  seen  the  phalanx  all  a-lance. 

There  Cyclops  walled,  Hephestus  toiled, 
And  Heracles  his  honors  shared  ; 

Athena,  grand  in  spear  and  shield, 

With  power  and  wisdom  danger  dared. 

Art-crowned  Acropolis  art  thou, 
In  golden  glory's  matchless  reign  ! 

A  thousand  years  of  genius  live 
In  fragments  on  thy  scarred  plain. 

The  whisp'ring  winds  on  Bema  tell 
How  eloquence  can  lead  the  soul ; 

And  ruined  Dionysus  gives 

The  tragic  thunder's  stately  roll. 

Callirrhoe  its  waters  pours, 

Illissus'  bed  the  torrent  knows, 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  91 

i 

Hymettus'  honeyed  hillside  gleams, 
And  Daphne  in  the  sunset  glows. 

In  silence  lift  those  pillars  grand 

Of  Jupiter  Olympus'  shrine; 
And,  close,  the  ruined  archways  stand 

Of  Hadrian,  named  by  Rome  divine. 

O  School  interpreting  this  lore, 

The  shrines  are  gone,  the  fanes  are  dead  ! 

They  look  to  thee  to  give  them  voice  — 
Their  priests  and  priestesses  have  fled. 

So  daughters  fair,  and  sons  of  light 

And  liberty,  beyond  the  sea, 
Climb  Mount  Parnassus'  snowy  height, 

Quaff  Helicon's  soft  mystery. 

Athens,  January  I,  1903. 

Sent  to  American  School  of  Archaeology  in  recognition  of  courtesies 

enjoyed  by  the  writer.     It  was  read  to  the  school  by  Professor 

Richardson  January  i,  1903. 


92  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


There's  none  like  "Uncle  Sam," 

Our  servant  and  our  king  ; 
On  errands  great  he  loves  to  wait, 

And  joy  to  his  children  bring. 

So  here  by  post  I  find 

A  pretty  box  all  white, 
With  wedding-cake  for  friendship's  sake, 

Before  me  as  I  write. 

The  cake  is  made  of  flour, 

All  sugared  to  the  taste, 
And  stuffed  and  crossed  with  fruit  and  frost, 

And  crowned  with  paper  laced. 

Such  be  your  life,  my  friends  ; 

Life's  flower  be  with  you  now, 
Life's  sugar  sweet,  life's  fruit  complete, 

Till  you  wear  the  frosty  "pou." 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  July  22,  1903. 


93 


<2Tbe  Cavlton  honee,  ^cUfftutrU,  Aflame, 

The  home  of  Col.  Rowland  Carlton  and  Susan  Merrill  Carlton. 

One  day  agone  the  house  was  young, 

The  wonder  of  the  town  ; 
Its  praise  admiring  neighbors  sang, 

And  great  was  its  renown. 

The  best  the  times  afforded  then 

Made  up  its  treasures  grand, — 
Great  rooms,  with  use  and  beauty  stored, 

Were  ample  at  command. 

Wide  halls  and  easy  winding  stairs 

Convenience  lend  and  grace, 
And  sloping  downward  toward  the  sea 

It  showed  its  massive  face. 

The  master,  tall,  with  fine  physique, 

The  wife,  with  noble  mien, 
The  children,  beautiful  and  bright, — 

What  fairer  sight  is  seen  ? 

Their  birthplace  fond  and  sacred  still, 

Their  home  of  childhood  fair, 
The  tryst  where  lovers  told  their  love, 

Where  weddings  glad  the  air ; 

6a 


94  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Where  cheer  and  jollity  combine 

To  make  the  hours  fly  ; 
Where  host  and  guest  are  happy  all, 

And  hearts  with  hopes  beat  high  ; 

It  has  its  zenith,  grand  old  home  ! 

Gray  hairs  bedeck  its  lords  ; 
Age  steals  apace,  life's  music  dulls ; 

Death  snaps  the  tender  chords. 

The  scion,  last  to  leave  its  doors, 

Is  borne  away  for  aye  ; 
The  shutters  close,  the  walls  are  dim, 

The  furniture  is  gray. 

Mementos  sad  of  hands  a-dust, 

We  leave  you  fondly  so, 
'Mid  echoes  ling' ring  softly  still 

Of  loved  ones  long  ago. 

We  leave  you  thus,  O  mansion  old  ! 

Thou  'st  bravely  borne  thy  part ; 
The  stranger  step  shall  greet  thee  soon, 

For  thou  art  "on  the  mart"  ! 

North  Sedgwick,  Maine,  September,  1903. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Nature  shows  a  bleak  allure 

When  roses  flee  and  leaflets  fall  ; 

But  Nature,  then  in  garner  pure, 
Is  gath'ring  beauty  for  us  all. 

So,  baby  bright,  you  came  to  earth 

When  snows  were  blown  and  trees  were  bare  ; 

But  ever  since  you  've  scattered  blooms 
Of  sweetest  fragrance  on  the  air. 

And  so  we  celebrate  the  day  : 

Friends  love  you  for  your  kindness  shown, 
The  stranger  gladdens  as  you  pass, 

Your  loved  ones  love  you  for  their  own. 

Fanny  Philbrick-Meserve. 

Raleigh,  N.  C.,  December  20,  1903. 


Christ  our  C|)ief  Cornerstone. 

Tune,  ' '  America. ' ' 

Thy  gracious  Name  adore, 

Whose  blessings  evermore 

Bring  joy  and  peace. 


96  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

While  angels  gladly  sing, 
Our  songs  of  praises  ring 
To  our  Eternal  King, 
Never  to  cease. 

Accept  our  gift,  we  pray, 
Whose  cornerstone  we  lay, 

House  for  thy  praise. 
Build,  then,  this  Zion  now, 
Chief  cornerstone  art  Thou  ! 
Let  vict'ry  crown  Thy  brow, 

Ancient  of  Days  ! 

So  shall  the  lost  be  found, 
So  shall  the  gospel's  sound 

Quicken  the  dead, 
Faith  guide  with  heav'nly  ray, 
Hope  kindle  night  to  day, 
Love  show  the  perfect  way, 

Through  Christ,  our  Head. 

Written  for  the  College  Avenue  Baptist  Church,  Annapolis,  Md., 
May  18,  1905,  and  sung  at  the  laying  of  the  cornerstone  of  the 
new  meeting-house,  May  20,  and  also  on  the  day  of  dedication. 
Written  at  the  request  of  my  cousin,  George  Earnest  Merrill, 
by  whose  efforts  and  generosity  the  beautiful  house  of  worship  was 
made  possible. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  97 


QTfje  fjiertan 

Read  at  the  dedication  of  the  Squirrel  Island  Library  building, 
which,  together  with  the  books,  was  the  gift  of  the  Island  Presi 
dent,  Albert  H.  Davenport,  of  Maiden,  Massachusetts. 

Our  island  of  beauty  and  friendship  and  health 
Looks  proud,  from  her  balms  and  her  firs  ; 

For  today  she  's  endowed,  not  with  millions  of  wealth, 
But  the  "gems  of  the  ages  are  hers." 

O  favored  of  Fortune  !  bright  island  serene  ! 

Whose  charms  make  us  glad  at  thy  call  ! 
Thou  hast  a  fond  lover,  who,  modest  of  mien, 

Has  made  thee  the  richest  of  all. 

With  a  generous  heart  and  a  bounteous  hand 

He  brings  thee  a  knight-errant  brave ; 
Other  islands  are  fair,  other  islands  are  grand, 

But  he  makes  thee  the  queen  of  the  wave. 

Here  the  "Squirrel"  that  came  to  our  welcoming  bay 

Furled  its  sails  in  our  safety  and  rest ; 
And  our  "Fountain  of  Youth"  bubbled  up  to  its  day 

Tho  it  knew  not  the  worth  of  its  quest. 

When  the  ages  had  passed,  and  the  island  awoke, 
One  day  came  these  "Squirrels"  that  be, 


98  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

And  the  pleasures  they  sought,  and  the  words  that 

they  spoke, 
Made  the  island  our  home  by  the  sea. 

So  today  has  been  opened  a  fountain  of  joy, 

To  flow  while  the  centuries  roll ; 
And  the  wealth  of  its  treasures,  unmixed  with  alloy, 

Shall  bring  wisdom  and  cheer  to  the  soul. 

Like  the  "spring,"  every  comer  finds  beauteous  store, 
Each  "taste"  waits  its  word  of  command, 

And  the  Muses  are  dwelling  among  us  once  more 
At  this  fountain  Pierian,  grand  ! 

Like  the  story  of  him  who  grew  daily  more  kind, 

Till  his  face  reflected  his  soul, 
We  are  gathered  to  honor  the  generous  mind 

That  such  generous  deed  could  control. 

Proud  of  honors  like  these,  all  the  "Squirrels"  unite 

To  give  to  the  giver  our  "  toast"  ; 
For  amid  all  the  "ports"  that  our  State  can  delight, 

Daven-port  is  the  best  on  the  coast. 

Squirrel  Island,  August,   1905. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  99 


•Better  than  <0altt. 

0  land  of  the  sunshine  and  flowers  ! 
O  home  of  the  palm  and  the  rose  ! 

Where  life,  'mid  its  soft-moving  hours, 
Finds  bounty  and  cheer  and  repose, — 

I've  longed  to  behold  thee  again 

Where  fragrance  and  beauty  are  found, 

Where  mountain  and  valley  and  glen 
With  wealths  of  the  ages  abound. 

So  here,  when  the  mountains  are  passed, 
The  storms  and  the  deserts  have  fled, 

1  wake  'mid  thy  riches  at  last 

With  summer-soft  skies  overhead. 

But  better  than  these,  to  my  view, 

After  years  of  longing  and  pain, 
The  friendships  of  eld  I  renew, 

And  get  back  my  old  loves  again. 

Los  Angeles,  California,  November  9,  1905. 
Referring  to  the  family  of  my  dear  friend,  deceased,  the  Rev.  L.  S. 
Sands. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


ig;  Crecs! 


Ye  monarchs  of  forest  and  glen, 
Lifted  high  where  the  ages  ye  ken, 
Looking  heaven  aface, 
Holding  earthward  your  place, 
Time's  sentinel  grand  ye  have  been. 

For  you  Nature's  world  is  ajar, 

And  its  wireless  messages  are, 
Floated  down  from  the  sun, 
While  the  leaves,  one  by  one, 

Tell  the  story  of  man  from  afar. 

Beside  thee  the  mountains  have  piled, 
And  the  torrents  have  chiseled  the  wild  ; 

The  storm's  havoc  has  wrought, 

Human  malice  has  fought, 
While  ye  waved  in  peace  undefiled. 

God's  hymns  of  the  ages,  so  choice, 
Out  of  sunshine  and  storm  ye  give  voice  ; 

And  the  songs  that  ye  sing, 

And  the  glory  ye  bring, 
Your  Monarch  and  Maker  rejoice. 

Written  at  "Big  Tree,"  California,  November  13,  1905. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  101 

hniuau,  the  -firulab  Lanfc. 

Who  knows  the  wonders  of  those  days  of  old, 

O  islands  of  the  mid-Pacific  land, 
Where  Nature  reared  in  majesty  sublime 

Your  cratered  mountains  and  your  valleys  grand  : 

Who  knows,  when  drifting  o'er  a  stormy  wave, 
The  shipwrecked  trav'ller  reached  these  virgin  isles  r 

Who  knows  the  story  of  that  native  race, 

Cradled  in  sunshine,  where  God's  bounty  smiles? 

Long  rolled  the  year,  mid  scenes  of  love  and  hate  ; 

Ease  followed  languor  as  night  follows  day  ; 
To  idols  dread  were  human  ofF'rings  paid, 

And  infant  murder  showed  how  wrong  held  sway. 

For  God's  good  bounty  hovers  over  all, 
Howe'er  the  years  may  seem  to  linger  so  ; 

The  idols  vanished  was  Hawaii's  call  — 

His  servants  hear  their  Lord's  command  and  go. 

So  lifts  a  nation  to  the  light  of  day  ; 

So  Pele's  superstitions  fade  and  die ; 
So  kings  and  princes  own  Jehovah's  sway, 

And  light  divine  illumes  Hawaii's  sky. 

In  richness  now  those  hills  and  valleys  grand, 
Adorned  with  beauty  and  with  bounty  laid, 


IO2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Offer  to  all  the  rights  that  man  has  won, 

Where  God  is  worshipped  and  His  love  displayed. 

Fare  on,  O  isles  !   this  beauty -land  for  us, 

Where  love  of  man  for  man  holds  widest  sway  ; 

Where  kindest  hearts  in  Christian  charity 

Have  seen  man's  day-star,  and  have  led  the  way. 

Ye  native  sons  and  daughters  of  the  soil, 

Lift  high  your  hopes !  Jehovah  is  your  friend  ! 

Seek  first  His  kingdom,  and,  whate'er  betide, 
His  hand  will  guide  you  and  His  love  attend. 

No  land  like  this  adorns  this  varied  globe, 

Where  plenty,  health,  and  comfort  kindly  vie, 

Where  breeze  refreshes,  and  mist  paints  the  bow, 
And  Summer — June  is  its  eternity. 

Honolulu,  H.  I.,  March  3,  1906. 

3fa  ^Remortam. 

Mrs.  Sarah  D.  Bogardus  Cheney. 
My  friend  is  dead  ! 
And  does  it  mean  that  never  more 

I  am  to  see  her  face  and  hear  her  voice  ? 

Those  words  of  dread  ! 
My  saddened  heart  is  sick  and  sore. 
It  must  be  !  I  've  no  other  choice. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  103 

My  friend  is  dead  ! 

Since  youth  she's  been  my  steadfast  friend, 
And  kindness,  like  a  shuttle's  play, 

Wove  thread  on  thread 
Of  friendly  patterns  without  end  : 
But  they  are  done  this  grievous  day. 

My  friend  is  dead  ! 

Yet  Mem'ry's  pleasing  chimes  ring  sweet 
To  greet  my  list'ning,  eager  ear. 

To  heaven  she  sped, 
Her  gracious  Master's  call  to  greet, 

And  there  she  waits  us  with  good  cheer. 

My  friend  is  dead  ! 
I  saw  her  happy  girlhood  days, 

I  wed  her  to  her  young  heart's  love  ; 

When  his  life  fled, 
I  pointed  her  to  heavenly  ways, 

And  she  has  found  them  now  above. 

My  friend  is  dead  ! 
Nor  I,  alone,  am  grieving  here : 

Her  widowed  husband  feels  the  blow 

And  bows  his  head, 
And  kindred  gathered  ro.und  her  bier, 

And  friends  that  knew  and  loved  her  so. 
Honolulu,  H.  I.,  March  4,  1906. 


i  c»4  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

"<£&*  Beautiful,  t&e  Crtte,  antj  tlje 

A  Tribute 

To  Albert  H.  Davenport,  of  Boston,  Massachusetts, 
President  of  the  Squirrel  Island  Association. 

As  falls  the  rugged  oak, 

With  clangor  deep  and  loud, 

Torn  from  its  rooted  bed, 
Rent  by  the  lightning  cloud, 

So  prone  in  death  he  lies, 

Sturdy  and  strong  and  brave  ; 

His  sway  of  widest  scope 
Ends  in  the  narrow  grave. 

His  was  "the  strenu's  life," 
'Mid  stress  of  toil  and  care  ; 

With  brain  and  nerve  intense, 
And  imperious  will  to  dare. 

Quiet  and  wise  and  firm, 
Modest  and  true  and  grand, 

His  was  the  "simple  life"  : 
Born  to  rule  and  command. 

"Beautiful,  true,  and  good" 
These  were  the  lures  he  sought, 

Alike  in  his  business  world 

And  his  realm  of  inmost  thought. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  105 

No  stain  is  on  his  life, 

Of  honor,  trust,  or  aim  ; 
"  Beautiful,  true,  and  good" 

These  are  his  precious  fame. 
So  sweetly  sleeps  he  now, 

From  pain  and  care's  release  ; 
"Beautiful,  good,  and  true," 

He  rests  and  is  at  peace. 

Arima,  Japan,  August  30,  1906. 

tL  be  y.  bornfittsl)  ant)  tl)c  Uosc. 

For  the  wedding  of  Bessie  May  Bowman  and 
S.  Raymond  Estey. 

Aye,  men  they  are  rough,  with  fiber  that 's  tough, 

And  needs  must  be  so,  I  trow  ; 
For  the  struggle  of  life,  with  its  toil  and  strife, 

But  hardens  us  all  as  we  go. 

So  here  is  your  Thorn  that  looks  all  forlorn, 

Till  burgeons  its  own  lovely  Rose ; 
And  though  sharp  it  seems,  it  has  beautiful  gleams 

In  the  flowers  it  richly  grows. 

My  friend,  the  Thorn,  to  good  fortune  was  born, 

For  he  sports  the  loveliest  Rose ; 
The  world  could  again  seek  for  such  one  in  vain, 

Whose  beauty  in  modesty  glows. 


1  06  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

This  lover  fair,  and  this  lady  so  rare, 
Wed  like  the  heath  and  the  heather  ; 

And  the  strenuous  Thorn  is  no  more  forlorn, 
For  Rose  and  Thorn  are  together. 

When  Heaven  disposes  Thorns  and  Roses, 

Their  favor  shall  linger  for  aye  ; 
And  the  breeze  or  the  gale  alike  they  may  hail, 

For  they  '11  never  wither  away. 

Osaka,  Japan,  September  20,   1906. 


Co  t& 

Stella  L.  Parsons  and  Grace  P.  Hart. 

Did  you  know  that  Stella  must  be  gone  on  some  fellow, 

For  the  Hart  she  has  is  not  her  own  ? 
When  her  Hart  goes  away  forever  and  aye, 

Will  she  then  be  heartless  and  lone  ? 

For  one  that  ne'er  marries,  what  a  sweet  Hart  she  carries 

Around  wherever  you  meet  her. 
'Tis  no  Hart  made  of  pelf!    'Tis  as  big  as  herself. 

She  's  in  luck,  you  '11  say,  as  you  greet  her. 

Her  Hart  on  her  sleeve  !   Oh,  don't  you  believe 
Such  a  tale  ;    'tis  too  wild  to  receive  it. 

Her  Hart  walks  around  just  as  strong  and  as  sound  ! 
You  see  it,  and  sure  you  believe  it. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  107 

E'en  her  birthday  's  a  wonder  ;  don't  call  it  a  blunder ; 

Her  Hart  and  herself  are  apart. 
Is  she  older  or  younger?   O  story -tale-monger  ! 

Whoever  had  just  such  a  Hart  ? 

Squirrel  Island,  September  5,   1907. 


Co 

O'er  the  waters  blue  to  far  Algiers 

I  wandered  lorn  and  lone  ; 
Its  genial  skies  and  gentle  breeze 

Gave  a  welcome  all  their  own. 

On  its  headlands  green  the  palms  abound  ; 

Snow-capped  the  mountains  gleam  ; 
And  flash  the  fires  of  wave  and  sun, 

And  the  painter  finds  his  dream. 

'Twas  thus  that  I  met  my  little  maid, 

Grieved,  at  her  father's  tomb  ; 
'Neath  sun  and  shade,  the  flowers  she  strewed 

Lightened  the  funeral  gloom. 

i 

Sweet  were  her  ways,  and  wise  her  words 

In  childish  sorrow  spoken  ; 
Her  big  brown  eyes  reflected  back 

Her  young  heart's  loving  token. 


i  o  8  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

She  's  grown  since  then  to  girlhood  fair  ; 

My  treasured  friend  is  she  ; 
The  same  brown  eyes  and  winning  ways 

Come  lovingly  back  to  me. 

When  forth  I  go  where  suns  ne'er  set, 

To  lands  afar,  unknown, 
Oh,  where  shall  I  find  so  sweet  a  friend 

That  I  fondly  call  my  own  ? 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  September  7,   1907. 


i&oliloqup. 

From  the  top  of  the  hills  I  look 

O'er  valleys  and  mountains  of  time, 

And  the  sweep  of  the  years  is  grand, 
And  the  wealth  of  their  beauty  sublime. 

In  memory  backward  I  go 

To  happy  childhood's  careless  hours  ; 
The  glitter  and  glory  they  knew 

Made  life  seem  like  fairyland  bowers. 

I  can  call  back  my  girlhood  days, 
When,  pulsing  with  pleasure  anew, 

Love  woke  me  to  generous  life, 
And  God  awoke  me  to  duty,  too. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  109 

The  joys  of  a  mother  and  wife, 

Of  my  friends  and  kindred  so  dear, — 

Ambition  and  confidence  met, 

And  a  plenty  to  bid  me  good  cheer, — 

All  this  and  more  are  before  me 

As  out  from  the  hilltops  I  gaze, 
While  my  children  and  grandchildren  bless  me, 

And  these  are  my  happiest  days. 

So  now  'mid  these  who  surround  me, 
Whose  love  and  support  are  my  need, 

My  love  and  my  blessing  attend  them, 
And  I  give  them  my  hearty  Godspeed. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  September  7,  1907. 

Written  for  Mrs.  Joseph  G.  Butler,  Jr.,  of  Youngstown,  Ohio. 


Commp  anU  Cttriottfif  feate. 

Tommy  and  Kate  held  Thanksgiving  debate 
While  by  the  window  talking  ; 

The  well  and  pitiful,  from  the  city-full, 
Before  on  the  sidewalk  were  walking. 

Thanksgiving  beauties,  comforts,  and  duties 
Made  up  the  theme  of  their  chat ; 

Tom  spoke  like  a  sage,  in  the  Usual  gauge. 
Kate  was  talking  as  odd  as  her  hat. 


i  i  o  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Said  Tommy,  Be  glad  for  blessings  you  've  had 

Of  health  and  shelter  and  bread, 
For  our  parents  and  aunts  and  dresses  and  pants, 

And  the  bounties  that  Nature  has  spread. 

Said  Kate,  I  am  sure  I  cannot  endure 

To  limit  my  gratitude  so  ; 
I  am  thankful  for  ills,  for  doctors  and  pills, 

And  the  pleasures  we  have  to  forego. 

Tom  spoke  of  preachers,  of  course,  and  teachers 
Who  train  us  in  wisdom  and  truth  ; 

Of  the  country  we  love  all  others  above, 
And  the  privilege  given  to  youth. 

Kate  mentioned  the  rain  and  sorrow  and  pain, 
To  which  we  owe  patience  and  pluck  ; 

And  the  studies  we  hate  are  blessings  elate, 
And  our  blunders  are  only  good  luck. 

To  trial  and  test  we  owe  what  is  best ; 

And  ease  and  luxury,  too, 
Are  the  witches  that  chill  and  numb  and  kill  us. 

We  're  best  when  we  've  something  to  do. 

Newark,  N.  J.,  November  2.6,  1907. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  \  \  i 


Co  Celebrate  tfje 

Of  Martha  Haynes  Pratt  and  Thomas  Carter  White, 
Lewiston,  Maine,  June  10,  1908. 

Not  rock  and  soil, 

Not  spruce  or  pine, 
Make  up  our  isle's  delight ; 

Not  ocean  blue, 

Nor  tides  and  waves, 
Reveal  it  to  our  sight. 

Our  daughters  fair, 

Our  sons  elate, — 
They  make  the  gladdest  thrall ; 

Our  Lover's  Lane, 

Our  true  love  knots, 
Are  dearer  than  they  all. 

So  wed  ye  well, 

Ye  Squirrels  true ! 
Love  light  your  every  day  ! 

Breathe  airs  of  balm, 

Shine  summer  sun 
To  greet  you  on  your  way. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  June  10,  1908. 


i  i  2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Co  itf  P  Clactttnateg  9111. 

A  Tribute.      University  of  Rochester,  Class  of  '58. 

'T  was  a  squadron  proud,  on  the  sea  of  life, 
That  was  built  and  launched  that  day, 

When  in  '58  we  manned  our  ships 
And  sailed  o'er  the  seas  away. 

There  were  twenty  and  two,  all  staunch  and  true 
Some,  battleships  strong  and  brave, 

Some,  trim  and  fleet,  like  the  cruisers  swift, 
When  we  started  o'er  the  wave. 

'Mid  stress  and  storm  the  voyage  began, 

As  we  sailed  at  Duty's  quest  ; 
Some,  lost  to  our  sight,  passed  quickly  on,  — 

We  followed,  at  God's  behest. 

They  have  disappeared  from  us,  one  by  one, 
.    As  the  years  have  glided  by  ; 
And  now  all  our  fleet  is  worn  and  gray, 
And  the  port  for  us  all  is  nigh. 

Full  many  a  scar  does  each  good  ship  show  ; 

None  have  passed  unscathed  away  ; 
There  were  foes  without  and  foes  within, 

There  were  struggles  day  by  day. 

Full  many  a  victory,  too,  we  've  won 
O'er  the  earth  and  sea  and  sky  ; 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  i  i  3 

For  Lore  and  Science,  Church  and  School, 
Our  pennants  they  gladly  fly. 

There  are  tears  for  those  we  shall  see  no  more, 

And  we  bless  their  memories,  all  ; 
And  we  give  you  cheer,  our  classmates  dear, 

Ere  we  go  beyond  recall. 

God  gives  us  His  peace  as  He  speeds  us  on  ! 

We  '11  stand  by  our  colors  still, 
Till  in  harbor  fair,  whose  lights  we  see, 

We  shall  meet  by  God's  good  will. 

Rochester,  June,  1908. 

Read  at  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  graduation  from  the  University 
of  Rochester  of  the  Class  of  1858,  at  which  occasion  there  were 
present  of  the  class,  Thomas  Dransfield,  Esq.,  Professor  Jacob  S. 
Gubelmann,  D.D.,  Rev.  Henry  L.  Morehouse,  D.D.,  LL.D., 
Major-General  Elwell  S.  Otis,  U.S.A.,  Professor  Francis  B. 
Palmer,  Ph.D.,  Rev.  A.  J.  Padelford,  D.D.,  and  the  writer. 


©ttr  Latop  of  t&e 

Not  fashion's  foibles  bound  her  sky, 
Not  petty  wasted  hours  employ, 

Not  gossip's  venom-stinging  tongue 
Engage  her  life  or  make  her  joy. 

Not  petty  jealousy's  demands 

Narrow  her  soul  to  selfish  things  ; 

Not  proud  ambition's  sharp  designs 
Limit  the  circling  of  her  wings. 


I  1 4  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Her  love  of  home,  of  friends,  of  man, 
Lends  truest  kindness  to  her  life  ; 

The  poor  a  ready  helper  have, 
The  home  a  mother  and  a  wife. 

"Ad  astra  "  is  the  motto  grand 
That  broadens  such  a  life  as  this  ; 

To  them  her  loving,  gen'rous  deeds 
Point  you  and  me  the  way  of  bliss. 

An  appreciation  written  for  Mrs.  Mary  E.  Bowman  on  her  birthday 
anniversary,  December  7,  1908. 


(E&e  Eeto.  Mantel 

An  Appreciation. 

He  was  a  man  ! 
Whatever  path  of  life  his  feet  have  trod, 

He  honored  it  ; 
And  well  he  served  his  fellow  men  and  God. 

His  scroll  of  life 
Emblazoned  is  with  many-mannered  praise  ; 

A  soldier  he 
Thru  Revolution  to  its  crowning  days. 

A  college  youth, 
He  took  the  honors  that  fair  Dartmouth  gives, 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  115 

And  followed  on 
To  fit  him  for  the  life  the  pastor  lives. 

Settled  at  length, 
He  leads  his  people  into  "pastures  new," 

And  builds  the  church 
That  follows  Christ  in  what  He  bids  them  do. 

In  missions,  too, 
He  sees  the  world  has  need  of  saving  grace  ; 

And  so  is  formed 
The  aid  soci'ty,  first  to  take  its  place. 

To  churches  weak, 
As  Paul,  he  goes  about  to  plant  and  build ; 

To  error  bold 
His  pen  with  Gospel  argument  is  filled. 

Where'er  you  see, 
This  pioneer  in  Christian-conquest  won  ; 

In  spirit  brave 
The  modest  hero's  glorious  work  is  done. 

It  lives  today  ! 
And  from  the  far,  yet  unforgotten,  past 

It  comes  to  life 
As  justly  owned  and  blest  of  God  at  last. 


i  1 6  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

So  sleeps  his  dust 
At  Sedgwick,  Maine,  where  his  great  work  was  done 

Among  his  church, 
Who  with  him  shall  be  "shining  as  the  sun." 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  February  10,  1909. 

The  Rev.  Daniel  Merrill,  A.M.,  was  my  revered  grandfather.  As 
a  youth  he  served  three  years  in  the  Revolution.  He  was  grad 
uated  from  Dartmouth  College  in  1789,  and  settled  at  Sedgwick, 
Maine,  as  pastor.  He  was  a  member  of  the  Legislature  three 
years,  during  which  service  he  secured  the  charter  of  Colby 
College,  on  the  Board  of  Trustees  of  which  he  served  till  his 
death.  He  was  three  years  one  of  the  Governor's  Council  of 
Maine.  He  was  the  first  settled  pastor  in  Sedgwick,  Maine, 
and  became  a  Baptist  with  practically  his  whole  church  in 
1806.  He  was  pastor  there  till  1816,  and  in  Nottingham- 
West,  N.  H.,  till  1820,  when  he  returned  to  the  pastorate  of 
the  Sedgwick  church.  There  he  died  June  3,  1833.  One  son, 
the  Rev.  Thomas  W.  Merrill,  became  the  founder  of  Kalamazoo 
College.  Another  son,  the  Rev.  Moses  Merrill,  died  in  the 
service  of  the  American  Baptist  Missionary  Union  as  a  mission 
ary  to  the  Otoes,  an  Indian  tribe  residing  on  the  Platte  river 
near  its  mouth.  There  the  first  white  child  born  in  Nebraska, 
the  writer  of  this  volume,  first  saw  the  light. 


little  Corel). 

No  matter  how  the  days  go  by 
Where  plenty  rules  the  hour, 

It  is  not  always  sunshine  there, 
Nor  always  life-in-flower. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  1 1 7 

Let  genius  star  the  gleaming  sky, 

Let  beauty  brightly  glow, 
Let  culture,  wit,  and  wisdom  vie ! 

It  is  not  always  so. 

And  when  the  clouds  eclipse  them  all, 

And  life  seems  dark  and  drear, 
Bring  out  this  little  torch  of  mine 

Of  love  and  hope  and  cheer. 

So  <<Markie,""Meemie,"<<Lala,""Dode," 
And  "Deedie,""  Mela, ""Dolly, 

With  all  these  gifts  and  with  this  torch 
May  evermore  be  jolly. 

It  may  be  smaller  than  the  sun, 

Forgotten  in  your  glory  ; 
But  when  the  greater  lights  are  out 

This  torch  will  tell  its  story. 

So  on  this  birthday  debonair, 

When  all  these  blessings  wake, 
Please  don't  forget  this  little  torch, 

Just  for  affection's  sake. 

For  the  birthday  celebration  of  Mark  D.  Stiles,  Esq. 
Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  February  14,  1909. 


1  1  8  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Hattie  E.  Vanderveer. 

A  tiny,  helpless  babe 

She  came  to  earth,  unknown  ; 
A  mother's  arms  her  cradle, 

A  father's  strength  her  own. 

Kind  fortune  also  made 

Her  gift  "the  magic  chalice," 
And  bounty's  envied  store 

Made  home  seem  like  a  palace. 

Love  lighted  up  her  way 
With  tend  'rest  ray  serene, 

For  lovers  vowed  their  troth 
To  her,  their  chosen  queen. 

Friends  thronged  to  give  her  joy, 
And  gladdened  every  hour  ; 

Her  kindred  loved  her  well, 
And  owned  her  gentle  power. 

The  cheer  of  grace  divine 

Was  th'  leaven  of  her  ways  ; 

The  joy  she  gave  away 
The  pleasure  of  her  days. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  119 

'Mid  evergreens  and  flow'rs 

We  laid  her  form  to  rest  ; 
Her  spirit  with  her  Saviour 

Forevermore  is  blest. 

Age  is  no  faded  bloom  ! 

It  is  no  tree  in  blight ! 
It  is  no  dark'ning  hour, 

It  is  the  dawn  of  light  ! 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  January  2.1,  1909. 

She  passed  away  at  her  home  in  Amsterdam,  N.  Y.,  December  21, 
1908. 

Calbar/p  C&oir. 

A  Valentine. 

O  where  is  the  home  of  Duty  ? 

Is  it  where  true  courage  dwells  ? 
O  where  lives  the  soul  of  Beauty  ? 

Is  it  Music's  voice  that  tells  ? 

Do  Calv'ry  Choir's  "numbers" 

Mean  more  than  records  know  ? 
The  voice  prophetic  slumbers, 

And  the  seer  alone  can  show. 

In  this  Leader  and  this  Choir 

Lo  !   he  tells  "the  quest  is  found"  ; 


i  20  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

And  these  gifts  that  wake  desire 
In  your  faithful  hearts  abound. 

When  you  brave  the  winter's  chills, 
When  you  conquer  weary  miles, 

Then  the  heart  with  music  fills, 
Then  the  soul  of  Duty  smiles. 

So  fare  on,  ye  sons  and  daughters, 

Music  lures  you  to  her  shrine  ; 
And  o'er  all  life's  troubled  waters 

She  shall  be 

Your  Valentine. 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  January  ay,  1909. 

Written  for  the  choir  leader,  Professor  E.  M.  Bowman,  and  a  copy 

was  by  him  sent  to  each  member  of  the  choir  on  Valentine's 

day,  1909. 


Jar  tlje 

Of  Grace  Parker  Doyle  and  Dr.  Alonzo  J.  Shadman. 

Ring  youthful  laughter  gladly  out  ! 

Swing  high  the  blooms  o'er  beauty's  head  ! 
For  wedding-bells  are  chiming  forth, 

And  gladness  reigns  where  lovers  wed. 

The  maiden  dwells  on  Squirrel  Isle, 
Where  summer  air  is  full  of  life  ; 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  \ ; 

This  lucky  swain,  he  wooed  her  there 
And  won  this  "Squirrel"  for  his  wife. 

Who  but  a  doctor  would  have  known 
How  such  a  heart-disease  to  smother  ! 

Who  but  a  woman  would  have  changed 
So  big  a  heart  for  just  one  other  ! 

So  send  them  forth  with  shouts  and  cheers 
Together  on  life' s  stormy  waters ; 

And  when  we  meet,  in  after  years, 

We  '11  help  count  up  their  sons  and  daughters. 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  January  22,,  1909. 

At  Hotel  San  Remo,  New  York  City,  January  28,  1909. 


3n  Appreciation. 

Mrs.  Ada  F.  Allen,  deceased  January  24,  1909. 

My  tears  are  blinding 

As  with  blow  on  blow, 
Because  another  of  our  dear  ones  goes. 

My  heart  is  finding 

That  the  shadows  grow  : 
The  grave  the  bitt'rest  is  of  earthly  foes. 


i  2  2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

What  if  we  're  lonely, — 

Death  no  mercy  knows  ! 
He  robs  us  of  the  best  we  have  in  store, 

And  cares  not,  only 

That  his  greed  he  shows, 
And  draws  the  shadows  round  us  more  and  more. 

Her  head  we  pillow 

'Neath  the  earthly  sod  ; 
Her  step  is  hushed,  her  word  and  work  are  o'er  ; 

Beneath  the  willow, 

In  the  care  of  God, 
Our  loved  one  sleeps  till  time  shall  be  no  more. 

Her  gen'rous  giving, 

Her  deep  affection, 
They  sanctify  a  mem'ry  truly  grand  ; 

Her  Christian  living, 

Our  fond  reflection 
Exalts  to  heights  that  answer  God's  command. 

The  life  unending 

She  forfeits  never ; 
Her  lot  the  better  as  the  ages  roll. 

Her  soul,  ascending, 

Is  with  God  forever  ; 
Her  name  is  blazoned  on  the  heav'nly  scroll. 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  February  I,  1909. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  123 


QLIjeir 

Robert  Wilson  and  Amelia  Meston  Wilson. 

I  see  them  now,  those  friends  of  old : 
The  flush  of  Spring  is  on  their  cheeks ; 

Their  plighted  troth  to  each  they  hold, 
And  love  to  life  its  blessing  speaks. 

I  see,  anon,  the  Summer  sun ; 

Its  noontide-heats  upon  them  pour  ; 
Their  children  greet  them  one  by  one, 

And  gladness  lingers  at  the  door. 

Death  makes  its  choices, — who  knows  how? 

And  little  graves  enfold  their  own  ; 
And  griefs  with  tearful  burdens  bow 

These  hearts,  with  love  the  stronger  grown. 

But  brave  and  gen'rous,  both  serene 
Address  themselves  to  do  life's  task  ; 

Their  children,  beautiful  of  mien, 
Bring  home  the  cheer  its  duties  ask. 

The  Autumn  days  around  them  close, 

The  yellow  leaf  scarce  shows  the  "sere"  ; 

The  household  head  finds  death's  repose, 
And  death  has  parted  those"  so  dear. 


i  24  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Awhile  that  mother's  cheerful  face, 
Devoted,  smiles  at  Duty's  call  ; 

She  sees  her  children  find  their  place 
With  fortune  beaming  over  all. 

She  counts  her  keepsakes  o'er  and  o'er, 
And  them  to  ashes  sadly  burns  ; 

Her  earthly  loves  claim  her  no  more, 
The  call  from  heaven  she  discerns. 

So  Winter  never  came  to  chill, 
Nor  age  to  fix  its  feeble  sway  ; 

But  Summer,  Spring,  and  Autumn  fill 
For  these,  my  friends,  their  life-bouquet. 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  February  8,  1909. 


Co  ;fftr.  anB  Jftrs.  Albert  &. 

For  their  Wedding   Anniversary. 

All  hail  to  the  pair  who  are  so  gallant  and  fair, 
Who  live  in  such  comfort  and  bliss  ; 

They  began  rather  late,  but  such  was  their  fate  ! 
They  've  got  to  make  up  for  all  this. 

And  the  kisses  their  due  they  must  surely  pay,  too 
And  how  many  wooes  and  caresses  ! 

Oh,  isn't  it  dainty  !   It  makes  you  feel  fainty 
To  think  of  the  sweets  their  home  blesses. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  i  2  5 

Around  them  the  traces  of  once  loving  faces, 
That  make  all  the  rooms  so  serene  ; 

E'en  the  furniture  there  has  a  look  and  an  air 
Of  welcome  and  beautiful  mien. 

With  memories  tender,  this  wife  and  defender 

Are  journeying  on  thru  the  years ; 
The  storms  shall  blow  over,  and  honey  and  clover 

Be  with  them  forever  —  the  dears. 

Mount  Vernon,  N.Y.,  February  9,  1909. 


Co 

"My  sweet  lamb,"  on  her  birthday,  1903. 

For  faults  and  failings  great  God's  mercy  I  await, 

If  Heaven's  gate  at  last  I  enter  in  ; 
But  to  you,  in  joy  or  bale,  father-love  can  never  fail. 

God  be  thanked  that  in  this  there  is  no  sin  ! 

Love's  favor  in  your  breast  flows  out  at  love's  behest : 
A  father  waits  a  suppliant  at  the  door. 

Love-words  are  more  than  gold,  love-kisses  wealth 

untold  ! 
Age  needs  them  as  it  gathers,  more  and  more. 

These  quick' ning  years  will  pass,  and  you  and  me,  alas, 
The  river-side  of  Death  will  surely  part  ! 

8a 


I  26  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Loving  Mem'ry  then  should  stand,  with  her  garlands 

in  her  hand, 
To  cheer  and  fortify  the  stricken  heart. 

So  far,  so  far  away  !   has  gone  the  happy  day 
When  first  we  came  together,  you  and  I, 

And  I  held  my  world  of  charms,  when  I  took  you  in 

my  arms 
And  sang  to  you  a  father's  lullaby. 

I  watched  those  eyes  of  blue,  till  Heav'n  seemed 
shining  thru ; 

No  angel-voice  could  ever  be  so  sweet ; 
And  your  little  baby  ways  won  a  doting  father's  praise: 

You  made  the  hours  flit  with  nimble  feet. 

Your  chatter  could  beguile,  your  kisses  be  my  wile, 

I  almost  seemed  to  live  alone  in  you  ; 
And  you  grew  my  daily  care,  and  were  with  me 
everywhere, — 

What  wonder  that  I  'm  longing  as  I  do  ? 

So  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  lo  !  to  childhood  back  we  go, 
And  my  aged  heart  is  happy  as  I  am  ; 

For  with  dolls  and  dresses  gay,  you  are  with  me  one 

sweet  day 
Content  to  be  your  papa's  "little  lamb." 

Athens,  Greece,  January  15,   1903. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  127 


of  Solomon,  to.  16:  "€&!*  ta  mp  frtenU." 

The  Rev.  Cortland  Myers,  D.D. 

How  great  the  worth  of  thy  true  heart, 

That  bears  our  load  of  woes, 
That  beats  with  hope  for  struggling  man 

Who,  mad,  to  ruin  goes. 

Its  pangs  are  keen  ;  its  tension  grows 

As  sin  reveals  its  sting, 
While  lips  that  sink  in  surge  of  death 

With  hellish  laughter  ring. 

Oh,  small  the  reck  the  throng  doth  know 

That  robs  thy  heart-of-peace, 
Who  in  Christ's  place  must  bear  the  cross 

To  bring  lost  souls  release. 

Shepherd  of  love  !   thou  pastor  true  ! 

The  stray  ones  thou  dost  seek 
In  humble  cot  or  castled  walls, 

Or  in  the  desert  bleak. 

In  boyhood,  manhood,  always  thus, 

Unselfish  —  like  thy  Lord  ; 
His  word  thy  law,  His  aim  thy  goal, 

His  guerdon  thy  reward. 


128  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

Sin  quails  before  thy  righteous  gaze, 

Beguilers  shrink  and  flee, 
Hell  knows  thou  art  its  enemy 

And  plots  thy  fall  to  see. 

Stand  fast,  brave  heart  !   No  harm  shall  come, 

Thy  Lord  is  by  thy  side  ; 
In  His  own  hand  He  holds  thee  safe, 

No  evil  can  betide. 

God  spare  thee  long  !   God  speed  thee  well  ! 

God  give  thee  tongue  of  flame  ! 
God  hear  thy  prayer  :   reward  thy  toil 

With  treasures  in  His  name  ! 

Raleigh,  N.  C.,  February  17,  1904. 


C&e  ianto  of  38ttrns. 

By  the  banks  of  Bonny  Doon 
The  murmuring  currents  run, 

Flanked  by  trees  and  grasses  fresh 
And  trembling  to  the  sun. 

And  yet  today  new  beauty  lives 

Amid  its  rippling  tides : 
For  him  whose  soul  the  poet  charms 

Sweet  poesy  abides. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  i  29 

She  whispers  to  the  waiting  heart, 

She  lures  the  list'ning  ear, 
She  thrills  the  soul  with  thoughts  divine  — 

The  thoughts  that  poets  hear. 

Here  lingers  thy  spirit, 

Thou  proud  child  of  song  ! 
For  the  day  of  thy  waking 

The  world  waited  long. 

These  woods  and  these  waters, 

They  murmur  thy  name  ; 
These  shadows  and  sunshine, 

They  picture  thy  fame. 

Thy  form  may  be  lost 

Like  the  leaf  that  floats  by  ; 
Like  sparkle  or  murmur, 

Like  cloud  in  the  sky  ; 

But  the  peasant  who  's  here 

Lives  more  at  his  ease, 
And  man  's  more  a  man 

For  thy  words  on  the  breeze. 

The  world  feels  the  zest 

Of  thy  generous  verse, 
And  the  chains  and  the  dungeons 

Have  lightened  their  curse. 


I  30  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

When  Liberty  wooed  thee 

With  love  like  a  god, 
Thou  gav'st  her  thyself, 

And  her  heights  thou  hast  trod. 

Her  banner  of  manhood 

She  brought  from  afar, 
And  thou,  her  knight-errant, 

Went  forth  to  her  war. 

While  the  tides  of  the  ages 

Sweep  onward  forever, 
.  The  world  will  break  tryst 
With  thy  memory  —  never. 

Let  columns  and  monuments 

Rise  to  thy  fame  ! 
Let  the  world  own  thy  power 

And  blazon  thy  name. 

Written  at  Ayer,  and  printed  in  the  Ayershire  Post,  October  9,  1 902. 

3Tmprompttt. 

On  hearing  of  the  death  of  Lieut.  G.  W.  Brown. 

Another  brave  in  a  soldier's  grave 

Hath  lain  him  down  to  sleep  ; 
In  the  battle-smoke,  with  the  sabre  stroke, 

No  more  his  step  shall  keep. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  i  3  I 

The  heart  so  leal  and  the  arm  of  steel 

Are  palsied,  aye,  for  strife ; 
But  the  noble  deed  and  the  patriot's  meed 

Are  left  of  the  hero's  life. 

The  sods  may  close  o'er  his  calm  repose, 
With  our  country's  flag  around  him  ; 

Yet  Liberty's  hand,  with  a  victor's  band, 
In  Death's  cold  arms  hath  bound  him. 

Not  length  of  years,  nor  woes,  nor  fears, 

Compose  a  record  grand  ; 
Who  grasp  the  right,  and  speed  its  might, 

Serve  God  and  fatherland. 

Drop  we  a  tear  o'er  the  early  bier 

In  token  of  our  sorrow, 
While  the  Army  bleeds  that  the  hands  she  needs 

Must  idle  be  tomorrow. 

But  the  bugle  call  and  the  battle  ball 

Again  shall  rouse  him  never  ; 
He  fought  and  fell,  he  served  us  well, 

His  furlough  lasts  forever. 

Carlton,  N.Y.,  May  22,  1862. 


I  3  2  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


3Tohn  W^itt  JJbilbtick, 

Of  Waterville,  Maine. 

Blest  is  the  memory  of  such  a  saint, 
Whose  life  is  quiet  walk  with  God, 

Who  does  not  weary  and  is  never  faint 
'Neath  victor's  crown  or  sorrow's  rod. 

He  goes  to  God  from  out  the  wreck  of  age, 
Calm  and  unfearing  at  the  call. 

No  words  are  needed  at  life's  closing  page  : 
His  life  is  word  enough  for  all. 

So  sleeps  he,  peaceful  as  a  tired  child 
Who  slumbers  'mid  his  childish  play  ; 

So  wakes  his  soul  in  Heaven  undefiled  — 
At  home  with  Christ  in  endless  day. 

He  's  found  the  company  he  lost  erewhile, 
Companion,  noble  sister,*  son  ;-j- 

They  wait  content,  beneath  the  Father's  smile, 
Till  all  shall  join  them  —  one  by  one. 

Athens,  Greece,  January  17,  1903. 

*Hannah  Philbrick  Elden,  one  of  the  world's  best  women. 

fCaptain  Herbert  S.  Philbrick,  U.S.A. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  133 


Lneetc'ei  §rraj]  -Boolt. 


It  only  has  two  covers 
To  cover  up  its  treasure  ! 

Who  'd  think  that  leaves  of  paper 
Such  secrets  fond  could  measure  ? 

It  mostly  has  mementoes 

Of  meets  and  rides  and  dances  ; 

Between  the  lines  you  read,  tho, 
Of  sighs  and  words  and  glances. 

Its  printed  schemes  were  blank,  once, 
But  now  they  bear  addresses 

That  mem'ry  holds  in  keeping 
Of  gallants'  deft  caresses. 

One  name,  perhaps,  is  oft'nest, 
No  other  eye  would  note  it  ; 

One  pleasure  gleams  the  plainest, 
Tho  none  might  dare  to  quote  it. 

One  picture,  manly,  winning, 
So  good,  so  kind,  so  human, 

She  shelters  in  its  keeping, 

And  who  can  blame  —  a  woman  ? 

Squirrel  Island,  1909. 


3  4  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


jfor  tjje 

Of  Emma  King  Foss  and  Arthur  Emil  Kusterer. 

Tomorrow  you  are  wed. 

Oh,  that  is  more  than  dreaming  ! 
Imagination,  Fancy,  Art, 
Ah,  what  can  link  us  heart  to  heart  ? 

'Tis  being  more  than  seeming. 

Tomorrow  you  are  wed. 

One  current  bears  you  ever  : 
Where  two  in  self  and  interest  dwelt, 
One  pulse,  one  life,  one  hope  are  felt, 

And  God  shall  part  them  never. 

Tomorrow  you  are  wed. 

Earth  surely  knows  no  brighter  hour  — 
Hope  flies  another  pennant  true  ; 
Home  has  another  light  for  you  ; 

Love  seeks  no  lovelier  bower. 

Tomorrow  you  are  wed. 

Bend  rainbows  gently  o'er  you  ; 
Health,  honor,  joy,  affection  vie 
To  bless  you  as  the  hours  fly 

Like  heaven-gleams  before  you. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  October  2,  1908. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  135 


KetoerenU  professor  Latorence 

A  Tribute. 

O  thou  heart  of  the  midnight  sun, 
Shining  out  benignant  and  clear, 

The  work  of  thy  life  has  been  done 
In  radiance  of  love  and  good  cheer. 

The  parish  has  all  to  commend, — 
As  pastor,  no  lamb  was  forgot ; 

The  student  has  found  thee  his  friend, 
However  unfortuned  his  lot. 

Society,  affluence,  ease, 

These  had  for  thy  welcome  no  thrall ; 
The  heart  of  thy  Master  to  please 

Finds  thee  ready  to  list  to  His  call. 

Thus  sunshine  pours  out  on  thy  way, 
So  simple,  so  faithful,  so  true  ; 

The  midnight  of  need  is  thy  day, 
The  meed  of  the  helper  thy  due. 

New  York  City,  April  9,  1909. 


136  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


Dearie. 

Ah,  when  shall  I  see  my  dearie  ! 

My  heart  is  growing  aweary, 
As  sadly  and  slow  the  dull  moments  go ; 
Can  you  tell  me  why  they  linger  so 

And  keep  me  away  from  my  dearie  ? 

This  waiting,  waiting  is  weary  ; 

Come  to  me,  come  to  me,  dearie  ! 
The  hours  away  time  cannot  repay, 
And  the  shadows  are  clouding  my  day 

While  I  am  away  from  my  dearie. 

Is  it  not,  is  it  not  dreary 

To  be  away  from  your  dearie  ? 

She  smiles,  it  is  true,  but  not  upon  you  ; 

What  shall  an  envious  lover  do 
So  far  away  from  his  dearie  ? 

Yes,  sad  are  the  days  and  dreary 
That  keep  me  away  from  my  dearie. 
When  shall  be  prest  the  sweet  lips,  kiss  carest, 
As  I  clasp  thee,  my  own,  to  my  breast, 
No  more  to  be  parted,  my  dearie  ? 

Rochester,  N.Y.,  September  6,  1 86 1. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  137 


|)2>mn. 

Thy  house  we  enter,  Lord,  today, 

Thy  presence  we  would  humbly  seek ; 

Guide  our  devotions,  Lord,  we  pray, 
Thy  favor  on  our  thoughts  bespeak. 

How  oft  dost  Thou  with  voice  sublime 
Reveal  to  us  Thy  holy  will ; 

But  we  defer  God's  harvest  time  — 
Our  own  weak  councils  to  fulfill. 

This  hour  be  Thou,  O  guest  divine  ! 

A  present  power  in  every  heart ; 
To  Thee  our  wills  may  we  resign, 

In  Thine  own  will  to  have  a  part. 

So  shall  whatever  we  may  do, 
Alike  in  movement  or  delay, 

Be  to  our  Master's  wishes  true 
As  we  with  cheerfulness  obey. 

Baldwinsville,  N.Y.,  December,  1866. 

Written  on  making  a  plea  for  a  new  church  edifice. 


i  3  8  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


©ut 

Our  loved  ones  love  us.     But  how  oft 
The  busy  cares  and  duties  that  annoy 

Conceal  their  better  natures,  and,  alas  ! 
Affections  too  concealed  defraud  our  joy . 

Our  loved  ones  love  us.     But  they  see 
What  limping  heroes  we  can  be,  at  best ; 

Our  faults  and  foibles  hide  our  nobler  selves, 
Till  life  is  gone  and  love  is  unexprest. 

But  Friendship  sees  perspective,  too  ; 

Ourselves,  exalted,  she  in  love  arrays, 
As  summer  haze  the  beauty  magnifies, 

And  summer  haloes  soften  summer  days. 

God  bless  our  friends  !   They  see  in  us 

Their  own  sweet  thoughts  reflected  and  enshrined 
Ideals  of  worth  and  taste,  honor  and  truth, 

Their  mirror  sure  for  them  shall  quickly  find. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  1895. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  i  3  9 


There  's  a  noble  youth,  my  dears, 
And  he  lives  in  gay  Algiers, 
And  he  puts  the  girls  in  tears, 
Don't  you  know  ! 

'Twixt  the  English  maid's  advances, 
And  the  Spanish  girl  that  dances, 
Why  the  former  has  no  chances, 
Don't  you  know  ! 

He  's  a  broad  and  manly  height, 
And  his  eyes  are  black  as  night, 
And  they  flash  with  wild  delight, 
Don't  you  know  ! 

And  tho  he  's  young  in  years, 
He  's  a  life  that  warms  and  cheers, 
And  a  soul  that  brooks  no  fears, 
Don't  you  know  ! 

He  's  a  will  that 's  strong,  forsooth  ! 
He  's  a  patriotic  youth, 
And  the  very  soul  of  truth,  < 
Don't  you  know  ! 


140  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

While  many  waste  their  days 
He  to  business  bends  his  ways, 
And  deserves  the  highest  praise, 
Don't  you  know  ! 

When  the  crowd  have  met  their  fate, 
He  '11  be  stalwart  and  elate, 
And,  mayhap,  among  the  great, 
Don't  you  know  ! 

Underneath  his  coal-black  thatch, 
He  's  a  very  pretty  catch 
For  the  maiden  and  the  match, 
Don't  you  know. 

Written  for  John  Torrstes,  Secretary  of  Consul  Kidder,  April  13, 
1901. 

©n  JHcUitatinff  a  Bisit  to  Palestine. 

To  be  where  Jesus  died  for  me, 

My  Saviour,  King,  and  Guide, 
Where  all  His  heart's  rich  treasure  poured 

To  bring  me  to  His  side  ! 
What  could  my  heart  in  answer  do, 

'Mid  such  a  scene  as  this, 
But  taste,  'mid  thankfulness  and  tears, 

The  Cup  of  pard'ning  bliss? 

Athens,  April  15,  1903. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  141 

Che  jFttfeuin  ^flartt. 

(The  Gospel  Ship  in  the  Inland  Sea  of  Japan. ) 
Captain  Luke  W.  Bickel. 

Ships  have  come  and  have  gone 

'  Mid  these  beautiful  isles ; 
Have  been  mirrored  in  seas 

That  are  dimpled  in  smiles. 

No  ship  has  brought  cargo 

Half  so  precious  as  you, 
O  Fukuin  Maru 

Of  the  A.  B.  M.  U. 

Life  comes  with  thy  presence, 
And  light  gleams  from  thy  sails  ; 

May  the  Lord  of  the  isles 
Give  thee  favoring  gales. 

And  glad  be  the  nation 

That  has  welcomed  thy  stay, 
Whose  night  of  delusion 

Will  give  place  to  the  day. 

God  give  thee,  O  Captain, 

The  full  hire  of  souls, 
His  favor  be  with  thee, 

Whose  Spirit  controls. 

Tokyo,  Japan,  October,  1906. 


9» 


I  42  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


to  ©ttt 


How  wonderful  Thy  love, 

O  Father  of  us  all  ! 
That  e'en  Thy  weakest  creature 

Is  held  within  its  thrall. 

It  no  distinction  makes 

Of  favors  or  of  bars, 
And  like  the  ether  reaches 

To  the  very  farthest  stars. 

It  is  not  blind  nor  reckless, 
It  knows  no  great  nor  small, 

But  shrines  His  gracious  image 
In  the  inmost  soul  of  all. 

-Whose  hand  like  His  so  tender  ! 

Whose  love  like  His  so  true  ! 
Whose  patience  so  forgiving 

As  God's  has  been  to  you  ! 

One  thing  alone  He  asks  you, 
'T  is  that  His  heart  doth  crave, 

That  heart  for  heart  you  give  Him 
Who  lives  your  soul  to  save. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  143 

In  sin's  hard  chains  He  finds  you, 

In  death's  unbroken  gloom  ; 
His  loving  hand  unbinds  you, 

He  vanquishes  the  tomb. 

Shall  sin  still  hold  dominion  ? 

Shall  you  yet  wayward  be  ? 
O  hear  His  voice  of  Mercy, 

Come,  sinner  !  come  to  me. 

Squirrel  Island,  Maine,  July,  1908. 


144  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 


My  loves  and  lovers  —  where  are  they  ? 

Some,  as  I  look  these  pages  o'er, 
Tho  old,  I  see  them  bright  and  gay, 

And  hear  their  voices  as  of  yore. 

The  years  have  fled,  yet  they  're  the  same  ; 

This  air  and  sunshine  know  not  change  ; 
I  shut  my  eyes  and  call  your  name, — 

'T  is  silence  !    Only  that  is  strange. 

To  you,  my  loves,  thru  all  the  years 
I  give  my  lover's  troth  to  you  ! 

Who  left  me,  here  for  you  are  tears ; 
Who  're  living  yet,  I  love  you  true. 

New  York  City,  April  10,  1909. 


MERRILL   GENEALOGY. 


MERRILL  GENEALOGY,   RECORD. 

Largely  due  to  the  diligent,  prolonged,  persevering  labor  and 
unstinted  expenditure  of  means  by  General  Lewis  Merrill,  of  Phila 
delphia,  Pa. 

i  — The    Immigrant,   2Nathaniel    Merrill,   settled   in 

Newbury,   Mass.,  1635.   . 
2 —  6Abel,  b.  6  February,  1644;  m.  Priscilla  Chase, 

10  February,  1671. 
3 — ^bel,  b.  28  December,  1671;  m.  Abigail 

Stevens,    19  June,    1694. 

4 —  4Thomas,  b.  29  July,  1702  ;  m.  Abigail  Bartlett, 
19  June,  1729. 

5 —  6Thomas,  b.  27  March,  1739  ;  m.  Sarah  Friend, 
22  January,  1762. 

6 — 2Daniel,  b.   18    March,   1765;  m.  first,  Joanna 

Colby,   14  August,   1792;  second,  Susanna  Gale, 

14  October,  1794. 
7 — sMoses,  b.  15  December,  1803;  m.  Eliza  Wil- 

cox,  i  June,  1830. 
8 — IMoses  Daniel,  b.  25  July,  1831;  m.  Emily 

Jane  Hanna,    3   May,   1864. 


148  My  Loves  and  My  Lovers 

8 — 2Samuel  Pearce,  b.  13  July,  1835;  m.  Amanda 

H.  Wentworth,  23  April,  1863. 
9 —  'Mary  Emily,  b.  20  February,   1871. 
2Moses  Daniel,  Jr.,  b.  7  April,  1873. 
sTirzah  Halicia,  b.  2  March,  1875. 

Children  of  Moses  Daniel. 
9 —  'Edward  Wentworth,  b.  30  June,  1865  ;   d.  21 

May,  1886. 

2Mary,  b.  15  January,  1876. 

sjohn,  b.  6  December,  1880. 

Children  of  Samuel  Pearce. 


WILCOX  GENEALOGY,   RECORD. 

BY  S.    P.    MERRILL. 

i  —The  Immigrant,  William  Wilcockson,  from  St. 
Albans,  Hertfordshire,  England,  by  ship  Planter,  26 
May,  1636  ;  settled  at  Windsor  and  then  at  Strat 
ford,  Conn. 

2 — ^Samuel,  b.  ;  m.  Hannah—  — , 

settled  at  Simsbury,  Conn. 

3 — 'Samuel,  b.  15  April,  1666;  m.  Mindwell 
Griffin. 

4 — 8Ephraim,  b.  4  February,  1707;  m.  Hannah 
Hill,  of  Simsbury. 


My  Loves  and  My  Lovers  1 49 

5  —  2Silvanus,  b.  14  November,  1733  ;  m-  Chastina 

Curtis,  of  Simsbury. 
6 — 2Silvanus,   b.    26    May,    1762;    m.   first,   Sarah 

Johnson,  28  April,  1785  ;  second,  Sally  Hamilton, 

19  October,  1831. 

7 —  8Eliza,  b.  3  June,  1800  ;  m.  Rev.  Moses  Merrill, 
I  June,  1830. 

8 —  'Moses  Daniel. 
2Samuel  Pearce. 

See  above,  in  Merrill  Genealogy. 

EXPLANATORY : 

Figures  before  names  signify  the  number  of  the  child  in  the 
family;  b.  —  born;  d. — died;  m. — married;  figures  before  lines 
—  generation  including  immigrant. 

S.  P.  MERRILL. 
Rochester,  February  n,  1888. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
M  •   « i- :-  T\TTTC  r»r»  *K»  locr  Hatp  stamoed  below. 

University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

305  De  Neve  Drive  -  Parking  Lot  17  •  Box  951388 

LOS  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA  90095-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library  from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


TJF-P? 
UNIVERS  •'•"[ 


AA      000066414   4 


t 


PLEA«*I  DO  NOT   REMOVE 
THIS  BOOK  CARD    i 


University  Research  Library 


J 


